


Painted Windows

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Bucky Barnes - Freeform, Dark fic, F/M, PTSD, Slow Build, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, Violence, allusions to torture, creepin up on ya, dark bucky barnes, dark!bucky barnes, dark!fic, dubcon, grim, noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22987819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: You are freed from your prison but for what, you don’t know.Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James Buchanan Barnes x Reader
Comments: 264
Kudos: 596





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I’ve been planning for a while. It’ll be slow at first as we introduce our characters and I hope you guys enjoy it. I always appreciate you and thanks for all your patience. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments and kudos if you like <3

_Painted windows there for me, painted windows so I can see_

  


Gunshots came muffled from the other side of the concrete. Each bullet was punctuated by the heavy stomp of boots down the hallway. You listened, huddled between the dingy metal toilet and the rusted cot. There was chaos beyond and your cell was no longer a prison, but your only protection.

You hung your head over your crossed arms, your knees bent below as you trembled. It wasn’t unusual to hear the occasional discharge and the silence of whatever blood followed. This was different; deliberate, determined. Even so, the death of your keepers did not promise you your life. You knew that.

The footsteps got closer. The gunfire stopped and left a deathly lull in its wake. You could hear every breath that escaped you, the hypnotic pulse in your own veins. You raised your head as the boots stopped on the other side of the door. You waited, a lump in your throat. Your fate awaited you.

The handle clicked and you inhaled sharply. It didn’t budge. Slowly, steadily, the lever cracked as it was forced down and the handle was dislodged from its frame, leaving a gaping hole in the door. You flinched as the broken mechanism was tossed against the concrete. 

The shadow pulled the door open. Its broad shoulders blocked the light behind it as it loomed before the bars. The silhouette was still. He watched you and poked the muzzle of his rifle between the iron. You stared at the barrel and closed your eyes as you waited for the bang!

It never came.

You opened your eyes. The nose of the rifle slipped from the door and tapped the concrete. The stranger considered you and exhaled slowly. He shook his head and glanced down the hall. His features were indiscernible as he never fully faced the light. He turned back to you and you felt the intensity of his gaze.

_Was this a new monster?_ Your shoulders slumped further as you thought to beg him for your release. Not from this cell, only from this existence. A bullet was your only hope of freedom. To remain was an extension of your endless torture.

He touched his ear and took a step back.

“All clear.” His voice was deep; sonorous. It filled your chest and sank deep into your bones.

He gripped the edge of the door and closed it inch by inch, never looking away. You shook your head and pushed yourself forward onto your knees. You crawled to the bars as the metal was forced back into its frame. The clank left you numb and echoed in your ears. 

You latched onto the bars as the darkness embraced you once more. You let out a brittle sob as his retreat faded down the hallway. Your eyes burned and you slipped down until your head was in your hands, concrete cold beneath you as you sprawled across it weekly.

Not like this. Anything but this.

  


You barely recalled dragging yourself up onto the cot. You were in a daze. You couldn’t sleep but floated in a trance. The icy chill that came with the acceptance of the inevitable. Death lived in this cell, it always had; your only companion. Since your first day in the concrete box, you’d known you would die here. 

You wondered how long it would take. _Days? Weeks? Would your desperation lead you to drink from the toilet? For what?_ _To prolong the suffering which shrouded your existence?_ You didn’t even know how long you’d been here. You tried to count but the numbers blurred together in your torment. It didn’t matter.

You started counting again. _How many minutes, hours, until it was over? Had it been forever?_ It felt like it. Before was a dream; distorted and far away. It was hard to believe there was anything but this place.

Then you heard it. The squeak of a sole on the concrete. You hadn’t heard the footsteps this time. You didn’t move and waited for them to pass you by. They didn’t. They stopped outside your cell and the shadow blotted out the line of light which seeped in below the door. 

The hinges whispered as the door was pulled open. You raised your head to watch as the same figure stood in the frame. A hand in a leather glove latched onto the bar and slid down until it settled on the lock. The fingers squeezed and the metal crumpled like paper. The pieces tumbled to the floor as he let go.

The stranger pushed the door open with his boot but he didn’t come any closer. The bars clattered against the wall and you sat up. You shivered and he tilted his head as he considered you. You drew your knees up and back yourself into the corner. He might have killed your keepers, your enemies, but it did not mean he was any better.

He felt along the wall on the outside of the door and turned the switch. The light flickered on with a buzz and you flinched. It was only used during visits. When the men sought to sate themselves upon you. You cowered and shielded your eyes. 

He examined the cell and hovered his foot over the threshold. He brought it down slowly as if breaking an unseen barrier. You pressed yourself to the wall and whimpered. He blinked at you and stopped at the end of your cot. You hugged your knees tight and looked to the pistol peeking out from beneath his jacket.

“Pl--” Your voice crackled. You only ever used it to scream and you quit that long ago. You shook your head and touched your throat. You wanted him to kill you but couldn’t even beg for it.

He stepped closer and your lip quivered fearfully. He bent and touched the end of the cot. Perhaps he knew what you were. Maybe he wanted to give you one last use before you were done with. His fingers closed around the threadbare blanket and he carefully lifted it from the cot. He rubbed the rough fabric against the leather of his gloves and let it hang before him.

“You can stand?” He asked. You frowned and gaped at him. You nodded stiffly. “Walk?” You nodded again. His jaw twitched and he swallowed. “Okay. So we should go.”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

“You want to stay?” He arched a brow.

You lowered your head. You cleared your throat. Your voice was like a blade in your throat. “Die.” You said. “I just want to… die.”

He was silent for a moment.

“Get up.”

“Why?” You asked and coughed as the words scratched.

“I can carry you out of here. Drag you.” He said tersely. “I’m certain that isn’t your preference.”

You let your arms drop and glanced up at him. He was stern and unyielding. He still held the blanket open. You unbent your legs and shimmied to the edge of the cot. His angular jaw and icy eyes were startling. You tore your eyes from him. As you stood, he swept the blanket around you like a cape.

“No shoes?” He asked. You shook your head. “It’s snowing out. You’ll need something.”

He turned quickly and disappeared out the door. You crept to the frame and peeked out. He bent over a body in a puddle of dark blood. He tore off its boots and stood. He returned to you and dropped them at your feet.

“Better than nothing.” He said.

You blanched at the stained leather as he watched you.

“Well…” He urged.

You pushed your feet into the boots and knelt to tie them. You straightened and caught the blanket before it could slip from your shoulders. He pulled it snug across your chest and nodded. 

“It’s windy. Keep your head down and hold on tight to that.” He advised. 

He grabbed your arm and guided you down the hallway. You struggled to keep up as you clomped along in the large boots. He turned corners sharply and as good as marched down the concrete. He didn’t relent as he pulled you up the stairs and you were out of breath when you got to the top.

He stopped before another door. He looked at you and grabbed the handle. He pushed it open and the wind whistled as white flakes swirled in the air. He dragged you out into the night, the air bitter as it nipped at your bare legs.

“Not far,” He whispered as he drew you down a dark alley. “Lay across the backseat and don’t move.”

  


You spent the ride beneath the blanket. It was easy enough to remain still. The man didn’t talk nor did he turn on the radio. You listened to the other cars and the winter winds. You shivered against the vinyl seat and peeked out at his shoulder as he steered. The street lights disappeared and only his head lights glowed amid the night.

The pavement turned to gravel beneath the tires and you listened to the crunch of snow and stones. Your hands were balled around the corners of the blanket. You didn’t realize how terrified you truly were. If this man had any intention to save you, he wouldn’t be spiriting you away.

The car stopped and he killed the engine. He got out and his door shut with a snap. He opened the back door and a gust blew in. He tugged on your ankle and you sat up. He beckoned you out with two fingers. You pushed yourself across the seat and stepped out as he loomed over you. 

He closed the door and grabbed onto your arm again. It was almost completely dark as he pushed you through the deep snow towards the house limned in moonlight. You tripped as you climbed the steps and he kept you from falling entirely. He opened the screen door and the spring squeaked. He stirred around in his pocket for the key and unlocked the inner door.

He kicked the snow off his boots and you did the same. Inside, he let go of you and locked the door as swiftly as he closed it. He flipped a light on and you glanced around at the small entryway. A staircase faced the front door and a doorframe stood on either side of you. He shed his boots and you did the same.

“Are you hungry?” He asked. “Thirsty?”

You stared at him confused. In your cell, they served you once a day, sometimes not at all. Always the scraps of their own meals; chicken bones with fat hanging off and rotten potatoes. You shook your head as you thought of your usual fare.

“You sure?” He eyed you closely.

You shook your head again and covered your mouth as you yawned. You cleared your throat but only a wheeze came out when you tried to speak. They taught you silence; to speak often earned you a smack, if not worse.

“Tired.” He said as he unzipped his coat and hung it. “How about…” He began. “You get cleaned up and then you can lay down? We can worry about everything in the morning.”

“Everything?” You mouthed.

“If I tell you now, you won’t sleep,” He said. “Come on.”

He waved you up the stairs and followed you. He was only a step behind. You could feel his warmth. When you reached the top, he pointed to the last door on the right. You went to it and he reached around you to open it as you stared dumbly. You stepped inside and the light washed over the room as he hit the switch.

There was a large bed set against the wall, a plaid duvet over it, the pillowcases clothed in a matching shade of navy. Walnut nightstands and a matching dresser; a bookcase, an armchair, framed pictures of mountains and forests. A room not a cell.

You stared at the bed and spun around. Your breath quickened. _A bed? Why?_ He caught you, his hands on your shoulders as you tried to push past him.

“The shower,” He said gently and gestured with his head to his right. A doorway led into a small room. “In there.”

You stopped and blinked at the open door. You pressed your lips together and slowly backed away from him. He released you as you hung your head. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“I’ll find you something to wear.” He said. “There are clean towels in the cabinet just inside the door. Take your time.”

You nodded and turned away from him. You ambled to the bathroom door and looked back at him. He slid open the dresser drawer as his fingers tapped on the edge. You squinted and your stomach roiled. 

_If he meant well, why hadn’t he taken you to the police? Why had he stormed into that compound and killed those men? Why were you here? Why had he gone back to get you?_

You turned away before he could sense your observation. You scurried into the bathroom and closed the door. You found a towel from the cabinet and cranked the faucet. You dropped the blanket and paused as you saw yourself in the mirror. 

_Was that really you?_ You didn’t remember this broken woman.

The dress you wore was shapeless and dirty. There were holes along the seam and near the collar. You looked worn and weary. Your eyes were hollow. You looked away as you pulled the dress over your head. You didn’t want to see it all; this strange body. This shell.

You stepped behind the curtain and closed your eyes as you stood beneath the torrent. Nothing could wash away the filth or ease the pain. The water could only distract you. Remind you of those fragmented memories. Allude to the before as you awaited the after, if that was to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find yourself confined once more.
> 
> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said before, we have a slow start but I hope you guys stick around. The darkness will creep up on ya in this one but for now, we’ll keep it in neutral. I always appreciate you and thanks for all your patience. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments. Are you excited? I am. <3

The man gave you a plain grey tee and a pair of shorts with a drawstring. You must’ve looked ridiculous but you didn’t care much after he offered you the bed. As you neared the wide frame, you kept expecting him to approach the other side. To climb under the blankets with you and rip apart the clothing he’d given you. But he didn’t.

He pulled the chair in front of the door and sat. When you were nestled under the covers, he reached up and flipped the lights. The room went black, a small stream of moonlight peeked in between the curtains. You could see his shadow through the dark as he rested his elbows on the arms of the chair and leaned back.

You felt guilty. You couldn’t close your eyes as you clung to the thought that you would take his bed from him. You sat up but hesitated to climb out from under the comforter. It was strange, almost a new sensation, to be clean and warm. He splayed his legs out and yawned.

“What?” He asked gruffly.

You gulped and rubbed your throat as you mustered your strength. “Your bed… I--”

“You need to sleep. Don’t worry about me.” He insisted.

Your lips parted but you had no argument. You reluctantly laid back, stiff as a board as you stared up at the ceiling. You huffed.

“If you can’t sleep, I have pills.” He offered dully. “They’ll see you through a good eight hours. Likely more.”

“No.” You rasped and it scratched at your throat. “No pills.”

He said nothing further and you rolled onto your side, facing him. You wouldn’t be able to relax with him behind you. You closed your eyes. They’d given you pills. It wasn’t hard to guess what they were for. Those men wanted a toy, not a baby. You shuddered and pulled the blankets up to your chin.

You listened to the stranger’s breaths. They evened out after a while and soft snores surrounded you. The rhythm lulled you to sleep. You didn’t dream. It was just a blackness so deep it swallowed every thought; every fear. 

You awoke to a slat of sunshine. The chair was empty and pushed away from the door. You sat up and shivered as the blanket fell from your shoulders. You got up slowly. Your muscles were sore and cramped from sleeping in a ball. You stretched and peeked between the curtains. Daylight shone bright on the pale snow.

You turned back and crossed the room. You passed the chair and tiptoed to the door. You tried to twist the knob but it wouldn’t budge. Your chest clutched and you shook it. You were trapped again. 

You backed away as the panic surged through you and tripped over your own feet. You crashed onto the floor. You rolled over and hid your face as you struggled to breathe. The attacks hadn’t come since your first days in the cell but that was your second since the night before. This one worse; overwhelming.

You heard the door and footsteps. Then felt a soft touch on your shoulder. You looked up at the stranger, his other hand held a plate. He frowned as you grasped at your throat and gulped like a fish on the shore. He stood and swiftly set the plate on the nightstand. He returned to you and knelt beside you.

“Count with me,” He put two fingers on your chest and tapped gently as he began, “One; in, two; out, three, four, five…”

“Six,” You gasped. “Seven,” You started to catch your breath as he kept the beat. He got to twenty before you were calm.

“You were trying to get out,” He said. He helped you sit up and directed you to the chair. “You don’t want to do that.”

You looked away from him. You ran your fingers over your lips and swallowed. 

“Eat,” He grabbed the plate and crossed to you; toast, eggs, sausages. 

Your stomach growled in hunger and repulsion alike. You hadn’t seen anything so delicious in… a long time. You took it and rested it on your lap. You caught the fork and broke the yoke. You watched it ooze but couldn’t bring yourself to take a bite.

He closed the door before he sat on the edge of the bed. “Eat.” He ordered. “I won’t say it a third time.”

You used the side of your fork to cut the egg and slowly raised it to your lips. He watched you quietly and you finished half before you tried the sausage. It was so rich and juicy. Your stomach flipped suddenly and you snapped your lips shut. You stood and set the plate in your seat. 

You tried to run to the bathroom but keeled over and puked across the hardwood. You covered your mouth and sat back on your heels. “I’m so… sorry.” You croaked. It was growing easier to talk. “I…”

“They didn’t feed you. Easy enough to guess. When they did, I doubt it was very much or very good,” He stood and went to the bathroom. He returned with a hand towel and knelt across from you. “Stick to the toast… I should’ve known better.”

“I’ll clean--”

“You’ll eat the toast and then I’ll get you some water,” He declared. “You better learn to listen otherwise you’d be better off as you were.”

You sniffed and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. You pushed yourself to your feet and returned to the chair. You took the plate and nibbled on the buttered toast as he wiped up your vomit. When he was finished, he washed his hands and left the room. The door locked behind him and clicked again when he returned with a glass of water.

“I can’t offer you much but I can tell it’s better than what you had,” He set the glass on the dresser just a few feet from you. “And the alternative isn’t ideal.”

You stood and reached for the glass. You sat back down and drank. 

“My orders were to clear that place. Everyone. No matter what. You understand? I was ordered to kill you.” He said.

“And? You should have.” You replied evenly. 

“Maybe but… I couldn’t,” He paced slowly. You realised he was anxious. “But I couldn’t leave you there either.”

“So you’ll lock me up here?” You questioned.

“Keep you alive,” He said.

“For what?” You challenged. “Nothing left for me.”

“There is. There can be. I can keep you safe.” He offered.

“Why?”

He was quiet and shrugged. He stopped by the window and adjusted the curtains so no light slipped past them.

“If you want to be my saviour, why don’t you just let me go?”

“Because the men who kept you there are still out there and the men who helped me kill the rest are too.” He stated as he turned back. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What?”

“You should be grateful. You’re alive.” 

You watched him but said nothing. You shook your head and drank the rest of the water.

“Thank you for the food,” You muttered.

He crossed to you and took the plate and glass. “More water?” 

You declined with a gesture and he backed away.

“There are books you can read,” He nodded at the shelf. “A radio.”

You glanced over and then back to him.

“I’ll be a while but I’ll be back with lunch.” He neared the door. “Anything in particular you want?”

“No,” You mumbled and turned away from him. You crossed your arms. This was as much a prison as your cell and he was only your new keeper.

  


The man returned as promised. The door was slow to unlock and was pushed open before he entered with a folding table in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. He set down the bag and unfolded the tray before the armchair as you watched from the other side of the room. 

He pointed to the chair and you hesitantly crossed and sat. He removed a large styrofoam cup from the bag and plopped it before you along with a plastic spoon and packet of crackers. 

“Chicken broth,” He explained curtly as he took the lid off. “Should be easier for you.”

He shut the door and locked it. He went to the window and pulled closed the curtains. You had spent much of your day watching the snowfall. You hadn’t be able to look away. You’d missed it so much. How long had it been since you’d seen the sun? Even the pale winter sun.

“Stay away from the windows,” He warned as he turned to watch you stir the broth. 

“From what I can tell we’re in the middle of nowhere.” You grumbled. 

“Not that far from the city,” He countered. “Don’t make me board it up.”

You looked down at the broth and frowned. He paced around the room quietly. You ate some of the soup and watched him as he neared and retreated again. He was thinking; of what, you couldn’t say. This man was as confounding as the situation itself.

“Why do you wear the gloves?” You asked. Your thoughts escaped without heed.

He stopped and turned to you. His brow wrinkled and he glanced down at his hands. He seemed surprised. He approached you and peeled the leather off his right hand, he paused before he unveiled the left. You couldn’t hide your surprise as he bared metal fingers and shining plates. He dropped the gloves on the tv tray.

“What happened?” You lowered your spoon.

“Nothing worth recounting,” He stretched his fingers and inched away. “Finish your lunch.”

He went to the door and left you. You sipped at your soup until the cup was empty and this time, your body did not revolt. He returned as you tucked away the cup, lid, and spoon into the plastic bag. You kept the crackers for later. He carried more bags.

He went to the bed and you stood. He pulled out several pieces of clothing and spread them over the mattress. “Had to guess at the sizes but figured it didn’t matter much.” He held up a tee shirt with flowers on it. “Better than my stuff.”

He unpacked his wares; shampoo, soap, lotion, pads, tampons, a hair brush, tooth brush, everything you could think of. You stared at the haul and blinked dumbly. You could choose one item and consider it a luxury; the lot was a treasure trove.

“I’ll have proper room for you shortly but I do have work to do.” He continued. “You let me know if you need anything…” He looked around. “I can get you a television?”

You raised your brows at him and he tilted his head slightly.

“All I ask is that you behave. For now, this room is yours. Stay away from the windows and do as I say.” He continued. “Eat what I give you, take care of yourself, simple enough.” He gathered the bags and stuffed them inside each other. “If you can’t adhere to this, I’m more than willing to help you along.”

You stared at him and backed away from the bed. You were suddenly embarrassed. In the back of your head, you knew this wasn’t a dream come true, only an extension of your former nightmare. You were ashamed that you had hoped for a second that he was decent. His kindness came with a price. Not kindness at all.

“Understood?” He asked curtly.

“Yes,” You forced out as you turned away. “I understand.”

“Okay,” He exhaled. “I’ll let you get all this stuff sorted then.” He gathered up the garbage from the tray and neared the door. “Anything I can get you?”

“N--” You spun on your heel as you gulped back the instinctual denial. “What’s your name?”

He blinked and his brows drew together. He picked at the handle of the plastic bag as he considered you. 

“Bucky.” He answered at last. “And yours?”

You opened your mouth to answer and stuttered. You touched your forehead as you thought. _Funny, you couldn’t remember._ Just like you couldn’t remember where you’d been going that night you were taken or the sound of your mother’s voice. _Did you have a mother? No, it was your father who had taken you to the festival and paid for that horse ride, right? Or was that a dream?_ Another mental escape from the agony of living.

“I don’t know,” You said quietly. “They just called me ‘her’ or ‘it’.”

His lips drew into a line and his jaw ticked. He looked away and stopped fidgeting. “Is there something you want me to call you?”

You followed his gaze to the bed, the shirts, the pants, packs of cotton underwear. “No, but can I think about it?”

“Sure,” He nodded and reached for the door. “Sure. I suppose you should.”

He pulled the door open so quickly you were afraid it would fall off its hinges. He marched out into the hall and the door snapped shut. The lock slid into place and his footsteps didn’t go far before another door clicked. 

You went to the bed and took a shirt from the pile, a long sleeve tee with buttons along the neckline. You picked out a pair of straight-legged jeans to match and a pair of socks. Real clothes. You looked down at those hanging off you and felt a tickle in your stomach. There was something very human about dressing yourself.

You were shaken from your reverie of denim and cotton by a sudden banging. You jumped and shuddered as you clutched the fabric. It was the steady beating of a hammer just down the hall. Not erratic or deafening enough to be anything more sinister. You let out a long breath and set down the clothes before swiping the tee over your head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take a chance.
> 
> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Well, I finished writing part 5 today but here is part 3 lol. I’ll say it’s finally picking up by part 6 and then I dunno, will probably get wild. I always appreciate you and thanks for all your patience. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments. Please just let me know if you’re interested, if you’re excited, what you think, any theories. <3

The day went on and the hammering softened to silence. You could hear nothing from the next room which formerly reverberated with noise. You walked around the room aimlessly, fiddled with the radio but gave up when you recognized none of the songs, and pulled out a book that you cradled but didn’t read. 

You couldn’t focus. You were too lost in the dread of the unknown on the other side of the wall. In your cell, everything was so definite. They would come, perhaps not at the same times, but you knew they would. The days had no light or dark to mark them, only the impenetrable march of time that blended together. No second, no minute, no hour stuck in your mind. It was all just the same.

Here, the curtains dimmed as the sun sank beyond. You tiptoed to the window and listened. Nothing. You pulled the edge back and gazed out onto the blankets of snow. The dark blue sky hung over the pale ground and set the trees in ominous shadows.

The door clicked and you quickly retreated. You pressed yourself to the wall as Bucky entered. He had another plate in his hand. The lock slid loudly into place behind him. He laid out the chicken breast and white rice. He crossed his arms at he looked at you.

“I said stay away from the window,” He uttered. “Last warning.”

“I…” You began but swallowed back your protest. 

You pushed yourself away from the wall and sat in the chair. The chicken was already cut into small pieces. You suspected he was wise enough not to allow you a knife. You reached for the fork but stopped.

“I just can’t remember the last time I saw the sun or the moon.” You said softly. “Only concrete and bars. I missed it but didn’t even know I did.”

His lips parted and he sighed as he turned his back to you. His hands went to his hips as he began to pace. 

“Eat.” He ordered. “I’m sorry but it’s not safe for you.”

“Do you think I was safe before? There were times I saw my death. I don’t know how they never finished the job.” You picked up the fork and spread the rice across the plate. “What about you? Is it worth _your_ safety to keep me here?”

He sniffed and dropped his hands. Your eyes fell to the dust on his knee and the smear across his shirt. Sweat dampened the neck of his shirt.

“I’m not worried about me.” He stated.

He neared as you continue to move the rice around and his hand closed over yours. He wrestled the fork from you and stabbed a piece of chicken. He pushed it against your lips.

“At some point, I’m going to stop repeating myself.” He growled. 

You slowly opened your mouth and he shoved the chicken inside. You took it between your teeth and he flipped the fork in his hand and offered it to you. You took it roughly and he backed away.

“Do you remember your name? Or come up with one?” He went to the bed and sat on the end of it.

“No.” You swallowed the chicken. “I don’t remem–”

You went quiet and held the fork over the plate. Your eyes bored into him and saw past him. You began to quake as your vision swirled and howling of the winter winds turned to voices. You were back in the cell as the figures stood outside the bars.

_“Damn bitch bit me,” One man cursed. “I’m gonna knock her fucking teeth in.”_

_“You do that, you might just knock the life out of her,” Another replied. “Just turn her over and make her scream.”_

You shrieked and kicked out. Your vision clear as the tv tray toppled and the food scattered onto the floor. You pulled your legs up onto the chair and lashed out with the fork. 

“No, no, no…” You snarled as you stabbed at air. “No.”

Bucky stood but didn’t move towards you. He watched you dully.

“Count.” He said. “One, two, three…”

His even voice calmed your racing heart and your arm fell. The fork clinked to the floor. You stared at him and your lips began to form the numbers. You slumped down in the chair and hid your face. He stopped counting.

He knelt and began to scrape the food back onto the plate. “I’ll make you a tea. It will help you calm down. Sleep.”

“I’ll just have water,” You didn’t look at him. Couldn’t find the strength to lift your head.

“You’ll drink what I give you and go to bed.” He insisted. “You’re doing yourself no favours.”

The tea was stringent and bitter. You weren’t sure if it was your own sensitivity or your suspicions of the brew were founded. With each sip, your nerves slowed and your drowsiness grew. You set aside the empty cup and he took it as you sank back on the pillows.

Your vision went black before he reached the door.

When you woke, he was there. In the chair like the night before. Your old cot was anything but comfortable but you wondered how he could sleep sitting up. You watched him through the dark, the curtains still shrouded the window. He didn’t move but for the soft rise and fall of his chest. You closed your eyes and hugged your knees.

You drifted away again and the next time you awoke, it was light out. As before, the chair was empty and shoved aside. The door was closed and the curtains too. You sat up and a bowl sat on the folding table. You rubbed your forehead and stood. There was something grim about this life. The routine already familiar.

You sat and ate the yogurt with bran. Plain and sour. You forced it down and went to the bathroom to clean up. You dressed in a pair of khakis and a cable knit sweater. You waited; an hour according to the small clock on the book shelf. He didn’t come and you rinsed the bowl in the bathroom sink.

Another hour and you went to the door. You pressed your ear to the wood and listened. You heard nothing. You turned and hesitated. You crossed to the window and pulled back the curtains. The sky was grey against the white snow. You stared out into the trees and your eyes followed the dark swerving road at the edge of the property.

You went to the dresser; a single drawer cleared for your new wardrobe. You slipped on a long sleeved tee under your sweater and pulled a zip-up over that. You had not shoes so you pulled on every pair of socks. You approached the window and were stunned when the lock turned easily. You expected to break the glass.

You slid it open and paused to listen again. The dark car remained in the drive and you peered out across the snowy sprawl. You crawled out through the window and shut it behind you. You kept low as you leaned into the slant of the roof and crept along to the side. There was a tree near the back you could scale and from there… you weren’t quite sure.

You glanced down as you neared the rear corner and reached out to grab the branch. There was only the snow and the wind. You swung and hooked your leg over the branch. You shimmied down it carefully. You stopped as you reached the trunk and your ears pricked. You could only hear yourself panting.

You dropped down to the next branch and the next, nearly breaking the fourth. You hung perilously above the ground and closed your eyes and willed yourself to fall into the pile of snow below. You gasped as you were enveloped by the chill and fought to stand in the deep snow. You shook out the powder from your sweaters and spun around. The dark figure by the shed halted as his eyes met yours.

Bucky was quick. So were you. You turned and bolted, lifting your feet high as you stomped through the thick drifts. But you weren’t fast enough. His arm snaked around your waist and he wrenched you back as you neared the thin line of trees. He dragged you back as you kicked and grunted, clawing at his arm.

“Are you insane?” He hissed as he turned you back towards the house. 

“Why?” You whined. “Please, let me go. What use am I to you?” 

He was silent as he as good as carried you back to the house. He stomped up the front steps and shoved you through the door. You stumbled and caught yourself on the stairs. You turned over and tried to stand. He grabbed the front of your sweater and shook you.

“You ruined these,” He looked at the dampened sweaters. “I told you not to run.”

“Stop!” You batted his hands. “Please, let me go.”

“You need me. You need my help.” He snarled. “You don’t understand because… because…” He huffed and glared down at you. “You don’t understand because you can’t yet. Your mind needs to heal.”

“I don’t.” You said. “I don’t understand.”

His lip curled and his nostrils flared. He grabbed your shoulders and turned you forcefully. “Up.” He ordered and pushed you. “Now.”

You winced and climbed the stairs one at a time. He was as close as the first time, almost against you. You went to the same door and he unlocked it, his body pressed to yours. You entered if only to distance yourself and he followed.

“Well, you can’t stay in those,” He pointed to your chest. “You’ll get sick.”

“I–”

He stormed over to the dresser and pulled out a tee and jeans. “Go on.” He whipped them at you. “Or you can go naked.”

You clutched the clothes against you and he marched out of the room. He slammed the door behind him and you listened to his heavy footsteps. He returned in second and entered with a large board and a yellow tool box. He kicked the door closed behind him and nodded to you.

“Get changed.” He barked. 

You quivered and unzipped the sweater. He turned and plopped the box on the dresser. He opened it and took out a hammer. He was completely focused on his work as you shed your layers. You pulled on the denim and shivered beneath the cotton as you left your old clothes in a heap.

He held the board up over the window with one hand and hammered a nail into each corner before adding more along the sides. You folded your hands over your chest and tried not to sob. When he finished, he put the hammer back in the toolbox and snapped it shut. He turned on you so quickly you squeaked.

“Once.” He held up a metal finger. “This only happens once. Understood?”

You nodded fearfully as his chest heaved in anger. He was suddenly storming at you and you stumbled backwards until you were against the wall. His metal hand twitched before your throat but never made contact. He bit his lip as he stared at his fingers, then your mouth, then into your eyes.

“I am helping you,” He said slowly. “Can’t you see? I can help you. You just have to…” He gritted his teeth. “Listen.”

His hand shook and he backed away from you. You leaned on the wall, barely able to keep yourself standing.

“I know what it’s like to be kept. To be used.” He sneered. “I know what you are but you are weak. You are… no one.” 

He shook his head and grabbed the toolbox. He went to the door and grabbed the handle as he looked at you once more. 

“I will make you someone,” He said as he tore the door open and disappeared on the other side. 

You stood in shock as the lock was latched into place and his footsteps faded down the hall. You peeked over at the barricaded window and slid down to the carpet. The days would be dark again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You make a move.
> 
> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here’s some more. It will start to rev up soon, promise. I always appreciate you and thanks for all your patience. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments before you go <3 Let me know thoughts, excitement, theories, anything.

Bucky was silent for two days, not that you could muster anything to say to him. He came with your meals, watched you eat, cleaned up your dishes, and slept in the chair. You spent your time alone walking in circles, laying on the floor, staring at the same page. It was worse than the cell because it was so close to the outside. You could hear the winds on the other side of the wood and glass but you couldn’t see them. That was a new type of torture.

But you hadn’t lost count yet. You marked the days by the pages. You folded the corner of the fifth that morning and slid it back on the shelf. You stretched and rubbed your eyes. You crossed to the covered window and placed your hands on the wood. You closed your eyes and imagined the shining snows and the hollow sky. _Would spring come soon?_

You left the bathroom door open an inch and undressed. You pulled the stopper down and turned the taps. You stepped into the tub as it filled with steaming water and sank into its depths. The heat cradled you, seeped into your skin and bones, you felt… calm. You closed your eyes and floated away as a blue sky pained your imagination. Clouds crawled across in obscure shapes. You smiled as the sun hid behind one that resembled a butterfly.

You heard birds singing and the soft breeze in the leaves. You could smell the pollen and feel the warmth across your face. And then the symphony turned to a drone and then a voice, clear and firm through the crack of the door. You opened your eyes and sat up to listen.

“No, no, I told you, I’m still fixing this place up,” Bucky’s voice drifted in. “Yeah, I know it’s taking longer than I expected. I can just meet you– No, just in the city. Your place?… An hour?”

You stood and lifted the plug. You reached for a towel as the drain groaned and stepped out onto the bath mat. You slowly pushed against the door and peeked into the room. 

Bucky stood before the table, a plate there with eggs and toast, a glass of orange juice, and a fork. He spotted you and blanched as he held a phone to his ear; it was small and unlike the clunky flip phone you called your own.

“Alright. I’ll be on my way shortly,” He said into the speaker. “Bye.”

He hit the screen and tucked the phone in his jeans pocket. He turned to you completely and sighed. His eyes lingered on the top of your towel and he swallowed.

“Get dressed. Eat.” He looked to the clock. 

“You’re leaving?” You wondered.

“For a little. I…” He went to the dresser and began to pull out clothes. A pair of black pants, a purple shirt, a pair of white cotton panties, and socks. He grabbed the stack and stalked towards you. “We’ll talk while you eat. Now get changed.”

You made to drop the towel and he caught your hand. He shook his head as his face paled. 

“In there.” He glanced at the bathroom door. You recalled the day before how he had been too distracted to notice as you stripped the wet clothes. “Here.” He shoved the clothing into your arms and nudged you towards the door. 

You hugged the bundle and tiptoed into the bathroom. You closed the door with your foot and set the clothes on the counter. You didn’t look at the mirror as you dressed; couldn’t bring yourself to acknowledge the strange reflection.

You hung the towel on the bar and went back to the bedroom. Bucky leaned against the wall with arms crossed. You went to the chair and sat. He was tense and impatient. You picked up the fork and he nodded.

“Look,” He exhaled, “I work in the city… mostly. Sometimes, I travel. So, I’ve been trying to figure out a way to make sure you’re taken care of. That’s what I’ve been working on.”

You cut out a piece of egg white and popped it in your mouth as you listened wide-eyed.

“I have work coming up soon and I’ll be away a couple days so today you’re moving.” He explained. “You’ll have everything you need. And I have a special phone for you in case you need me. Emergencies only, understand. It only dials out to me so don’t think of trying anything.”

You put down your fork and grabbed the toast. You bit into it and chewed slowly.

“Are you hearing me?” He squinted. You swallowed and took a sip of juice.

“I am,” You assured him. “So your work… you kill people?”

“Bad people. Or I like to think so,” He said. 

“And you… save the good?” You asked.

“Try to.”

“And am I a job to you?”

“If I had done my job, you’d be dead.” He said evenly. “You are… “ His eyes flicked down and he shrugged. “You are here.”

You blinked at his vague answer and took the fork again. Even when this man was talking, he said nothing. You finished your eggs and nibbled the toast to the crusts before draining the glass.

“So… where are you moving me to?” You glanced over at him.

“To your room. It’s all yours.” He dropped his arms and pushed himself away from the wall. 

“Mmm,” You stood reluctantly. “Am I supposed to call it home?”

“Call it what you will but you will be safe and comfortable,” He replied. “I doubt you would say the same of your former accommodation.”

“A prison is a prison.” You muttered. “Bars or not.”

He said nothing as he went to the door. Just waited for you to follow as he pulled it open.

It wasn’t far at all. Only just down the hall, the very next door. He ushered you inside and was just a quick as ever to close you in. The walls were grey, padded with a soundproof barrier. There were two other doors; a closet and a bathroom. A small dresser and night tables that book-ended the bed.

Along the opposite side of the room was a compact kitchenette; mini fridge, microwave, tiny counter and sink, some cupboards. _Had he done all this in mere days?_ You looked around again and your stomach flurried with nerves. You neared the windows slowly. No boards, only thin lace curtains.

He followed as you peered out into the snowy yard. “You can see out but not in.” He stated. “Shatter proof.”

Your elation died at his words. Still a cell to keep you. You stepped around him and wandered along the foot of the bed to the small round table. He came up on the other side as you looked down at the hardcover notebook. He slid it toward you.

“You should try writing out your thoughts.” He suggested. “It’s supposed to help.”

“I don’t… know.”

“You should do something to keep yourself busy,” He insisted. “You don’t have to write about what happened, just about now or anything.”

“I don’t get it.” You looked at him. “You act like you’re helping me by keeping me here but it’s no different than before.”

He frowned and backed away. “There’s more than enough food for you to survive in my absence. I trust you can figure out how to make yourself a sandwich or two.” He retreated to the door and spun back. “Phone’s in the nightstand to the left. Television remote is with it. Movies just beneath and Netflix pre-programmed.” 

“You’re leaving today?” You asked.

“Tomorrow.” He said. “But I’m meeting a friend in the city. Co-worker. Then some running around. I’ll bring your clothes when I return.”

You nodded and lowered your head. “Am I supposed to thank you for all this? This pretty little cell?”

“Do what you want,” He uttered.

The handle turned audibly and was followed by the snap of the door closing. A heavier lock whirred into place and you peeked up at the punch pad. You couldn’t hear him walk away or the creak of the stairs. You could only hear your own breathing as you were once more trapped.

Bucky returned hours later. You barely noticed as you were enraptured by a show you found on the television. It had been so long since you’d seen a screen. So much had changed. The characters all had glowing skin and phones like Bucky’s and the world was so bright. Unlike yours.

He brought a special meal with him. The smell of the pizza broke your concentration. You went to him as he opened the box. 

“I should’ve asked you what you wanted,” He said. “But I just got cheese.”

“That’s okay.” You sat and took a slice. “It’s…” Your eyes began to water more than your mouth. “I haven’t had pizza in ages. I…”

He grabbed a slice and settled in the chair across from you. “Take it easy. Don’t push yourself.”

“Thanks,” You said without thinking and bit into the slice. “Mmm.”

He was slow to eat his. You barely noticed that it was because he was distracted by you. You ate even the crust and sat back. 

“You can have another,” He offered.

“No, I don’t think I could,” Your stomach felt full already.

“Did you write anything?” He looked down at the notebook beside the pizza box.

The momentary cheer left you and you stood. You grabbed a piece of paper towel from above the counter and wiped your hands. 

“I have nothing to write about.” You said.

He was quiet. He took another piece and finished it quickly. He rose shortly after. 

“You can put the rest in your fridge and keep it for tomorrow. I’m leaving before sunrise.”

“Okay.” You muttered.

He huffed and dragged his feet to the door. You didn’t look at him as you went back to the bed and hit play. You could feel him watching you.

“Don’t forget, you can call me.”

“Mmhmm,” You nodded and watched the colours flash on the screen though the words were gibberish in your head.

“Good night.” He said.

You focused on the television as the air grew tense. He opened the door at last and left you with the usual grind of the lock. You fell back against the pillows and grunted. You hated this. Him acting like it was all normal. Like it was paradise. 

And you just couldn’t figure him out. One moment he seemed caring, even nice. The next he was steely and cold. The swing of the pendulum was worse than the sheer cruelty of your former wardens.

For the first time since your arrival, you slept alone. No chair by the door, no rhythmic snoring to calm you. Only the silence encapsulated in your new cell. The shadows of furniture loomed over you and your heart raced too much to doze. The night was fitful and restless.

You rose before the sun and stared out the window. You heard nothing in the house but watched as the car backed out of the long drive and disappeared down the winding road. You felt lonely now that he was gone, not that he was great company. Helpless might have been a better word for it.

You boiled water in the microwave and made a cup of tea. You sat at the table in the light of a single lamp. You sipped and wondered what to do with yourself. It had never been much of a question before. There wasn’t anything to do but lay in wait of your next assault.

You could finish the series you stayed up late watching or try reading again. You set aside your mug and reached for the notebook. You opened the cover to the first page. It read; _this journal belongs to ___________. Y_ ou uncapped the pen and twirled it in your fingers. You scribbled in the corner until the ink began to work. Then you wrote in unsteady, slanted script; _no one._

You flipped the page and hovered your hand above the top line. You didn’t know the date so instead you wrote the number six. Your sixth day there, though it felt like longer.

You moved to the next line. Your hand was slow at first, unsure of the letters to write. Then they formed easier as you reached the fourth, fifth, six lines. You went until you were at the bottom of the page. Your tea was cold and so were you. You closed the notebook and went to the bed. You fell asleep in seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky returns.
> 
> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, things are gonna start getting a bit… awry. Hope you all are ready! I appreciate you and thanks for all your patience. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments <3 Let me know thoughts, excitement, theories, anything.

You thought you knew loneliness. Those days, months, years, in your cell. Maybe the visits were dreaded and torturous, but you could hear the voices, the movements, the existence in the same halls as you. This was a very different type of loneliness; isolation but now you could look out at what you were being kept from.

It snowed the first night after Bucky left. You watched the power pile on branches and add to the heaps on the ground. Then you stayed up in the glare of the television and watched the fabricated lives of others. The simplicity of going to a cafe or walking in the sunshine. The life you’d missed out on.

You wrote in the mornings. To keep yourself busy, distracted. You walked around the room as much as you could to stay active. Maybe you could ask for a stationary bike to keep your legs from cramping. That would have to wait though. 

By the third day on your own, day nine in your journal, you were writing at night too. When you tried to write about before, you found your mind hazy and indiscernible like your dreams. The patchwork of quilt dissembled and strewn about. 

So you wrote about the cell, the days you could remember clearly, the torture, the way it felt; the fear, the confusion of body and mind, the anger and self-pity. You stained the pages with your despair.

The fourth night passed easier. You slept soundly until a bump woke you. You sat up as you heard the lock on the door shift. The handle turned and you slipped from beneath the covers. You turned on the lamp on the bedside table and got to your feet as the door opened and revealed a dark shadow. The same that had looked through the bars of your cell.

Bucky entered and the door closed behind him. He locked it with the code he hid from you. His fingers moved without looking. Your heart began to race as he stalked towards you. He was dressed in thick leather and a harness with empty holsters. His hair was mussed and as he came into the glow of the lamp, you saw the dried blood on its ends and smeared across his cheeks.

You cowered as you looked into his eyes. His pupils were dilated and dark. You didn’t know if he could see you. He was so mechanical in his movements, his face sharp and deadly. He reached out and you flinched. He grabbed your arm and pulled you close. His other hand, the metal one, touched your cheek. 

You stood frozen as he stared at you. His brows drew together and he lowered his head. He released you as if snapping out of a trance.

“Sorry,” He retreated slowly. “I’m all… I’m filthy.” He turned away and moved numbly towards the bathroom door. “I’ll wash up and…” He stopped and exhaled. “Go back to bed.”

The door snapped shut behind him and was followed by the whine of the shower head. Your hands folded over your chest, the pounding of your heart against your palm. You were confused; terrified. If he hadn’t stopped himself, you couldn’t have.

You touched your cheek. You could feel his cold metal thumb there still. You shivered and slowly went back to the bed. You climbed to the far edge of the mattress and hid beneath the blankets. You listened to the shower, the footsteps on porcelain, the subtle movements just on the other side of the wall.

You were wide awake and when the faucet groaned to a stop, your eyes shot open. There was a moment of silence then the door opened. You felt the warmth of the steam behind you and heard the footsteps near the bed. Another pause. The weight of his gaze settled over you.

The mattress dipped as he got up on the bed. You trembled and squeezed your eyes shut. He slid down beside you under the blanket and his hand rested on your shoulder. He pulled until you turned to him. You couldn’t look; wouldn’t look. He took your arm and draped it over his bare torso. 

Your eyes opened just a little, a towel knotted at his waist barely concealed his nudity. He pulled the blanket higher as he nestled against you. He cradled your head in his hand and rested it along his shoulder. He hugged you with his other arm and sighed. He reached over and turned the lamp off with a flick.

The room went dark and you listened to the beating in his chest as it steadied. Your own was frantic and tamped wildly around his. His hand softly tickled your shoulder and arm then slipped down to trace the line of your throat.

“Sleep,” He said quietly.

You tensed and he hugged you tighter. His metal hand fell to your arm and held it across him. You couldn’t move, only succumb to his will. Though he was gentle, you could feel his strength; inhuman and unyielding. 

You closed your eyes but knew sleep would not come, even at his command.

You didn’t sleep. Just laid against him as he did. He only dozed, nothing more. Didn’t try to touch you further or use you. This man continued to confound you. There was a desire for affection in him, for closeness, but it seemed he was as inept at it as you. You weren’t sure you wanted it. Truly, all you wanted was to be left alone. To once more be your own person.

When the sun rose, you tried to. He woke and clung to you. Held you to him until you stilled.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I’m awake,” You said. “I wanted to get up and have tea.”

“Stay a little longer,” He squeezed you and took your hand in his.

You couldn’t pull away. You were too afraid, too weak. You cursed yourself and let him hold you. He lifted your hand and played with it, he admired your palm and fingers as he did. It was such a misplaced act of intimacy it made your stomach clench.

“You were okay when I was gone?” He asked.

Better, you wanted to say. Instead you nodded against his chest.

“Sorry I was so long. It was… rough.” He explained and you frowned. Why was he telling you all this?

You shrugged and he closed his hand over yours. The metal was cool against your skin.

“What?” He asked sharply. You said nothing. “Are you upset?”

You sat up and tried to pull away from him. He kept hold of your hand and you were stuck there with him. “I don’t… What do you want from me?”

“Have I hurt you?” He ignored your question as he sat up, his fingers were like a vice on yours.

“No, no, but… why can’t I go? Please…”

“How long were you locked up in that place?” He asked.

You opened your mouth to answer but had none. You shook your head defeated.

“So how do you think you would survive out there?” He prodded. “You wouldn’t be alive without me and you will not stay alive without me.”

“No, no. I have a family out there. Somewhere.”

“Yeah? Somewhere? You don’t even know your name.” He sneered.

“But I will. I just need time. If I went to the police, they could–”

“Do what? How could they ever help you figure it out? Were you ever convicted? If not, they wouldn’t have your DNA or fingerprints filed and do you even know how many missing persons cases fit your description?” He turned on you as he rose on his knees. He grabbed your arms and pulled you to face him. “You would spend the rest of your life lost. Alone. You have a place here. I made sure of it.”

“But–”

“But what? Okay, fine.” He released you harshly and held up the towel as he backed off the bed. “How about I unlock the door,” He crossed the room, “Hmm, we’ll go downstairs and I’ll just let you go.” He punched in the code. “How far do you think you’ll make it, huh? You go down to that road, stick your thumb out, and what? You’re picked up by some creep who’ll leave you dead in a field.” 

He swung the door open and crossed his arms. “Go on then.”

You gaped at him. You rheart sank and you slowly crawled across the bed. You went to the closet and he tutted.

“Ah, no. Go as you are.” He snarled. “You don’t wanna stay, you don’t appreciate all I’ve done to keep you alive, then you go with what’s on your back.”

You winced and backed away from the closet. You glanced over at the window, the ledge thick with snow. Your bare feet felt colder and your arms prickled with goosebumps.

“I’m… sorry,” You said quietly. “Y-you’re right. I’m sorry, can I please… stay?”

“Can you what?” He cupped his ear dramatically. “You gotta speak up.”

“Please,” Your voice was thin as tears welled behind your eyes. “Please, can I stay?”

“Stay?” He measured the word before him. “You’ve changed your mind so quickly.”

“Stop,” You pleaded. “You’ve made your point.”

“My point?” He feigned confusion. “And what’s that?”

You sighed and shook your head. “I wouldn’t survive without you… and I have been ungrateful for all you’ve done to keep me alive.”

“Kept you alive and safe and comfortable. Warm and well fed. Dressed, clean…”

“I get it, okay?” You said. “I get it.”

“And yet you don’t act like you do.” He challenged.

You stared at him. His eyes were like knives stabbing into you. You shook and rubbed your elbow nervously. 

Your lip quivered as you spoke. “Thank you.” You said quietly at first. “Thank you.” You repeated louder and he tilted his head. “Thank you for saving me, Bucky.”

His lips twitched as if he wanted to smile. He didn’t. He shut the door with the flick of his wrist and it beeped as it locked. He put his hands on his hips as he approached you.

“Your welcome,” He said evenly as he leaned in to look you in the eye. 

You made Bucky breakfast. Your roles seemed to have reversed in that sense. Almost as if you were repaying him for the sound-proofed room and all its amenities. You ate together though your appetite dwindled with each bite. You watched him and he pretended not to notice. He was as perplexing as this entire situation.

Last night, he was needy, almost desperate for your touch. He’d clung to you like a scared child and in a second, he’d reverted back to the callous man with the metal arm. You looked down at your empty plate and tried not to gag. You felt sickeningly full. You cleaned up his dishes and he left shortly after.

You were thankful for his absence. Yet your solitary was not as it had been. He was somewhere in the house, just on the other side of the walls. Lingering, even waiting, to make another appearance. You washed the dishes and put them away in the small cabinet. 

Then you sat and opened your notebook. You didn’t write about him or the long night, you continued where you left off. To the fragile and fractured mind of a young woman torn out of reality. To the cell that encapsulated your life. The best years of your life, they said.

You were older now. You could see it in the mirror, feel it deep inside. Still you weren’t sure how long it had been. The stress could have worn on you and aged you before your time or perhaps it had been that long and you had crossed the threshold of thirty. You didn’t know and you didn’t have the strength to guess.

You finished the page and closed the book. You slipped it inside the drawer of the nightstand and tidied the bed. You pulled the sheets and blanket back into place. You went to the window and stared out onto the carpet of white belows. You could see his footprints there, leading away from the property and back. 

He appeared by the car and you watched him open the trunk. He closed it and walked away with a duffel bag in his hand. He disappeared below the eaves and you could picture him climbing the steps to the front door. It was odd how you could see it all and hear nothing. Like living in a box or an aquarium. Entertainment for your sole visitor.

You turned away and slid down the wall until you were slumped on the floor. If this man truly had an ounce of empathy, if he truly sought to be compassionate, to free you from your former bonds, he would’ve killed you. This was worse than any death. You almost yearned for the days behind bars waiting for your next tormentor.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You struggle to make sense of your captivity.
> 
> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Alright so we’re seeing things amp up and I hope you all enjoy it. I have up to part 8 planned out and then brainstorming the rest lol. I honestly don’t know what this series is. I always appreciate you and thanks for all your patience. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments <3 Love ya.

Day fourteen. Two weeks. Two whole weeks of the interminable routine. Wake up; if you slept at all, breakfast, lunch, dinner; sometimes alone, sometimes not. In between, you opened your notebook, or watched television, or walked around in circles until you were dizzy. Other times, you did nothing at all and wondered at the principles of time.

Bucky was no different. Mercurial, albeit amenable since his little victory. Since your acceptance; your surrender, had become obvious. You were quiet, not that you had been eager for conversation before, and listless. You hadn’t had a purpose in years, no hopes, no ambitions, but something about this place felt so final.

That day, the door finally budged after lunch. You watched it fall open and listened to the grunts that announced your visitor. Bucky dragged in a box almost as big as himself. He dropped it in between the bed and table. He turned and closed the door before he knelt beside the large package.

“You wanna help?” He asked as he tore open the box. 

Several metal parts, a small screen, a seat, nuts, bolts, a screwdriver; everything you needed to piece together the stationary bike. You were stunned that he remembered. A passing comment about your inactivity; cramped legs and an impenetrable restlessness. You neared and stood on the other side of the box.

“If you want me to,” You answered.

“Are you busy?” He asked dryly.

“Never,” You dropped to your knees and helped him unwrap the contents.

You took the instructions and sat back on your heels. You search for Part A among the mess. You grabbed it and the other part listed in the first step and slid them over to Bucky. 

“You need one of the flat-topped screws it says.” You read carefully.

He considered you above the thin booklet. “Alright.”

You carried on as such. You read out the steps and helped sort through the pieces and he screwed them together. Almost an hour before you finished. A silver exercise cycle was your prize. You couldn’t help but be excited.

“There,” He stood and gathered up the packaging. “It should keep you busy; fit.”

“Thank you,” You touched the handlebar and walked around it.

“Well, go on,” He neared the door. “I’ll be back for dinner.” He opened the door and glanced back at you. “I can order something. You like Chinese?”

“All the way out here?” You peeked over at the window.

“Yes, all the way out here,” He grumbled. “Might be a bit cold but that never killed anyone.”

“Sure,” You shrugged. “Chinese is fine.”

He left. That was what you hated. The acquiescence. It was so easy to treat his control as courtesy. This wasn’t truly to make you happy, only to appease you. To make your captivity easier for him; not for you. You huffed and climbed up on the bike. You adjusted the resistance and pedalled as you lost yourself in thought.

You went until you were out of breath and achy. You slipped down onto your feet and ambled over to bed as you yawned. It was the most exercise you’d had in… well, you were still trying to figure out that math. 

You sprawled out and clicked on the television. Your latest addiction was a comedy about an office. It made you wonder where you’d be if you hadn’t ended up in the cell. _Would you be at a desk wiling away the time staring at a computer? Or maybe you’d be a teacher or librarian. You liked animals; you could’ve been a vet._

You let yourself melt into the pillows and soon your eyes closed under their sudden weight. You fell asleep with the buzz of dialogue in your ears; the words vaguely familiar to your idle brain. Your snores rose too and mingled with the steady drone. You rolled over onto your side as you began to rouse and shadow passed through the slit of your eyelids.

Your eyes fluttered open through the haze of your unexpected nap. You looked at the table; a big white bag pulled taut over several cartons, beside it, a familiar set of pages laid open beneath a metal hand and you followed the arm to its owner. Your heart leaped and you sat up as Bucky pored over your journal. He didn’t seem to notice you as he was so wrapped up in the words. _Your_ words. Private words. Secret thoughts.

You hurried across the bed and stormed over to him. You tried to wrench the book from beneath his hand but his grasp was stronger than yours. He merely looked over at you and ripped the notebook free. He held it away from you as he blocked you with his other arm.

“You can’t–” You slapped his arm. “How could you read that? It’s mine. You…. you…”

“You started writing,” He said plainly as he closed the book in his hand and set it down. “That’s good.”

“Why would you read it?” Your voice was brittle as you pushed away from him. “Why? It’s not for you.”

“Sit. The food’s going to get cold,” He gestured to the other chair. 

You frowned and he cleared his throat. You dragged yourself to the chair and sat heavily. You stared at the notebook. He untied the plastic bag and began to unpack the cartons one at a time. You were livid and speechless. Worse, you were helpless. He would always win. 

He rose and got two plates from the cupboard. He set them out and grabbed a carton. 

“Rice?” He asked. You ignored him and crossed your arms. “Noodles?”

You reached out and slid a plate in front of you. “I can serve myself.” You snarled. “You might think I’m weak but I wouldn’t be alive if that was true.”

He chuckled and spooned out rice onto his own plate. “Sure,” He scoffed as he set it aside and grabbed the box of veggies. 

You scowled and scooped out some noodles and waited for the veggies. You only took a little of the chicken and sat back with arms crossed. The food smelled great but you just couldn’t focus on the faint tickle in your stomach. You were angry. For the first time, you weren’t scared or sad or sickened, you were absolutely enraged.

He lowered himself into the other chair and started to eat. You watched him with a sneer. You recalled he said he knew what you felt because he had been kept once. It sure didn’t seem like it. It seemed like he was an expert at keeping others. His empathy was nothing more than manipulation. You dropped your arms and fiddled with your fork but didn’t use it.

“Why don’t you write about… before?” He swallowed. 

“What?” You spat.

“You write about the cell, about what they did to you,” He shifted in his chair, “But not about what came before. Your home, family… your life?”

You looked away embarrassed. You twirled a load of noodles around your fork and shoved them in your mouth to avoid answering. You chewed as he watched. As you took another bite, he dropped his fork and grabbed the notebook. You froze and watched as he flipped it open.

_‘The man who came most often was tall but skinny. Still, he was cruel and too strong for me. I remember the first time he visited. It hurt and every time after, it did as well. It wasn’t just sex though. He would take out this little folding knife and draw lines down my stomach as he used me. Or he would choke me until I passed out. One time, he held my head in the toilet and I thought I would drown._

_But I dreamt of that knife. I still do. I thought of how to steal it from him so that I could use it myself. So that I could finish the job he always left half done.’_

Bucky closed the book and reached across to place it beside your plate. You were stunned as you gulped down the noodles and stared into his eyes. They were as dark as that night he returned. Savage and resolute. You shivered and looked down at the notebook.

“Do you miss the man with the knife?” He asked.

You shook your head but couldn’t look at him. Your chest knotted and you let your fork fall against the plate. You twined your fingers in your lap and bit your lip.

“But you write about him?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You whispered.

“Why do you write about those men and not your family?”

“Because…” You croaked and meekly looked up across at him. “Because I can remember those men. I can’t…” Your voice trailed off and you lowered your chin again. “Please, I can’t–”

He was silent. You stewed in the tension as you fought to hold back the tears. You pressed a hand to your stomach as you hunched in the chair. There were scars still; you ignored them as you passed by the mirror before your showers. Your cheeks twitched as you resisted the sob caught in your throat.

You sensed movement and your eyes were drawn across to the other side of the table. You made sure not to move your head as you watched along the edge of your vision. You could see Bucky’s arms as it disappeared below the table. You could tell his hand was moving in his lap, slowly. His breaths rasped and he suddenly seemed to recall himself. His hand came up and gripped the edge of the table.

“You should eat.” He said. 

“I’m not very hungry,” You lied.

He sighed and his fingers tapped on the table. “You know I can tell when you’re lying. I was trained to. It’s part of my job.” He grabbed his fork again and stabbed a piece of broccoli. “Among other things.”

You sat up at the foreboding in his words. You stared at him and he stared back. He chewed and nodded to your plate. 

“Go on.” He jabbed his fork towards your plate. “Eat.”

Bucky didn’t leave after dinner as he usually did. You cleaned up to keep yourself busy and ignored him as you hit play on the television and balled yourself up against the pillows. He lingered at the table but rose as the second episode began. He kicked off his boots and climbed up next to you. He said nothing as he watched the screen. His arm touched yours but he only sat with you.

He slumped down and began to snore several episodes in and you glanced over at him startled. You crawled off the other side of the bed as you kept your eyes on him. He didn’t wake, didn’t move. You left the television on as you tiptoed around the bed. You went to the washroom and closed the door behind you. There was no clasp to lock it.

You went to the tub and pulled the curtain across the bar. You laid down across the porcelain with your arm beneath your head. It was cold like your cell. Your heart slowly petered out and the pounding retreated from your ears. You closed your eyes and you were back behind the concrete walls. Waiting.

But your mind wouldn’t stay behind the bars. It slipped past them and returned to the padded room. To the table where the metal armed man sat, hand in his lap as he bent over your scribbled memories. You bit down on the heel of your hand and tears leaked down your nose and temple.

You wept until you fell asleep. Until the memories turned to nightmares; though they were barely dissimilar. Only your visitor differed. The shadow at the bars; broad shoulders, rifle, shining arm, hair to his shoulders. He kicked in the door but you couldn’t move. Couldn’t shield yourself from the new monster creeping through the dark.

Bucky stood over you as he set aside the rifle. You followed the barrel’s nuzzle with your eyes longingly. Your small cot trembled as he climbed over you. You were naked against his bloody leather jacket. The zippers and buckles cut into your skin as his metal fingers wrapped around your throat. You peered up into his eyes; blue like the ocean and just as endless..

You were woke by the sound of the rings sliding across the bar above. You looked up as Bucky stood by the tub and stared down at you. You shielded your eyes from the bright bulbs above the sink. He knelt and tilted his head as you crossed your arms over your chest and drew your legs up.

“What are you doing in here?” He asked. You shrugged. “Come on.” He grumbled and grabbed your arm. 

He pulled you until you stood. He forced you to step out of the tub and back into the bedroom. The sky outside had begun to lighten. He guided you to the bed and turned you to him. His hands rested on your shoulders and he pushed until you sat on the mattress. He frowned at your reluctance.

“Sleep,” He ordered as he drew away and bent to grab his boots. “I’ll be back at noon.”

You didn’t say anything as he crossed the room. You didn’t move even after he was gone. You just sat there on the edge of the bed. You closed your eyes and saw his again; the depths of terror. You quaked and balled your fists around the blankets. _How long could he restrain the monster within?_ He was no different from your former wardens and this was no different from that frigid cell. It was all just as hopeless.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get a surprise.
> 
> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I think this is a pretty interesting chapter… but now I gotta try to keep up writing ;) Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments <3 Let me know thoughts, excitement, theories, anything.

You checked the clock; 12:03. Bucky still hadn’t shown as promised. You would count it as a blessing but it had you on edge. You knew little of the actual man but you knew when he said he would be somewhere, he was there. So you waited, on the literal edge of your seat, and checked the clock minute after minute.

You tried to distract yourself by folding the pages you’d torn from the back of your notebook. A butterfly, a swan, and a frog. You were surprised you could recall the patterns. The table was your menagerie; the paper creatures lined up in a row.

When you looked at the time next, it was 12:14. You didn’t know why you were so eager for his arrival. Maybe just to get it over with. Each visit seemed more intense than the last. _How far could he push himself before he snapped? How far could he push you?_

Your eyes darted over to the door as the handle wiggled. You sat up and set down the half-folded flower. The door opened slowly, the subtle shift of a curious intruder. You blinked as your heart pattered and your stomach stirred. You teetered on the edge of the chair. 

It wasn’t Bucky.

Your mouth fell open at the sight of the golden-haired man. He looked just as shocked to find you there. He looked around the room cautiously and then back to you. He pressed his lips together and clung to a veneer of calmness. You held yourself up with the table.

“Hi,” He said coolly. 

You gulped. _Who was he? Why was he there? Had Bucky sent him? Were you expected to… accommodate this man as you had so many?_ You wouldn’t have a choice if that was his intent. He was as big as Bucky, if not taller, though not so sinister as he watched you.

“Hi,” Your voice was small. You tried to see past him. “Where’s Bucky?”

“You know, I was going to ask you the same thing.” He stepped inside, just two steps.

“I don’t– Are you his friend?” You asked. “Wait, co-worker?”

“Both, actually,” He tucked his hands in his jacket pockets as his eyes strayed once more. “I’ve been calling him all morning and I thought I’d come find him myself but… say, what’s that you’re doing?”

You looked down at the table as he neared. You slid back in the chair as you cowered in his shadow and reached to pick up your folded frog. He gave an amused chuckle as he examined it.

“Origami,” You answered without looking up. “Just folding paper.”

“Hmm, cute,” He set down the frog and pushed down its rear to make it leap.

“I don’t know where Bucky is,” You said, “You should go find him.”

“I can wait for him here,” He pulled out the other chair and sat. “Could you show me how to make one of these?” He pointed to the frog.

“R-really?” You shyly lifted your head. Your eyes flicked to the open door before you forced them back to this stranger.

“Yeah, they’re pretty neat.” He smiled.

“They’re child’s play,” You frowned.

“Maybe, but what’s the harm in having a little fun?”

“Oh, well, I guess…” You chewed your lip as you thought. “I guess I could show you. But after, you should go look for Bucky.”

“Sure,” He accepted. “But first…” He nodded to the table.

You slid a sheet across to him and showed him the first fold. “Like this.” Those were the words you repeated as you made each fold, overly aware of his gaze that wasn’t always on your hands. Perhaps that was better as your fingers were clumsy with nerves.

“I’m Steve,” He interrupted your instruction. You winced and stared at him. “And you?”

You glanced away and turned the paper between your fingers.

“I… don’t really have a name.” You admitted.

“No name?” He wondered. 

“I can’t remember it,” You said quietly. “I… you really should go find Bucky.”

“You could choose a name,” He offered as he ignored your plea. “Not many people get to do that.”

You shook your head and dropped the unfinished frog. “I tried but nothing fits.” You pulled your legs up onto the chair and hugged them. “Please–”

“Mmm, well, I’m sure you’ll pick something. It is a pretty big decision.” He said kindly.

“Yeah, I…” You closed your lips and scrunched them up as you dared to meet his gaze. His face held none of the hostility of his friend; only genuine interest. “Did you ever see Wizard of Oz?”

“Yeah, I have.” He replied with a grin.

“I don’t know, I… was watching it just the other day and I remember how we would watch it at school and how I used to think I wanted to be like Dorothy. I still kinda do. To be able to just click my heels and go home.” You hid your face embarrassed at the thoughts that spilled so easily. “Don’t you think it’s be nice?”

“I do,” He said. “Wait… Dorothy? That’s a nice name.”

“Eh,” You shrugged. “It’s a bit old-fashioned.”

“Well, how about Dora? You look like a Dora.” He leaned an arm, a thick, strong arm, on the table as he tried to catch your eye.

“Dora,” You raised your eyes. “I… like it.” Your cheek twitched and you looked at the door again. A shiver went through you. “You really should go.”

“You didn’t finish.” He gestured to the table.

“You have to go before Bucky finds you.” You begged. “Please.”

“Why’s that?” He asked.

“Because… I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“Bucky won’t hurt me,” He said swiftly. “I know him well enough… or at least I like to think I do.”

“I don’t think he would let anyone know him. Not really,” You moped and pushed your legs down. “I really think you should go.”

“Dora,” He called you by your new name. “It’s okay. He won’t hurt me. Or you if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“Isn’t that what he does? Hurts people?” You stood and he did too. You flinched and stepped around your chair to keep your distance. 

“Not exactly,” Steve said. “But has he… hurt you?”

Your brows shot up and your lips parted. You had no answer. Maybe he hadn’t harmed you physically but there were many ways to hurt a person.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice permeated the silence.

You looked past Steve to the figure in the doorway. Your heart hammered as Bucky stepped inside, his eyes fixed on your unexpected guest. Steve turned and greeted his friend with a smile.

“Buck,” He chimed. “I’ve been calling you. And you didn’t answer the door.”

“Mmm,” Bucky grumbled as he peeked over at you. “Well, I got a bit caught up in some chores.”

“It’s okay, Dora kept me company.” Steve assured.

“Dora?” Bucky narrowed his eyes. “Ah, well, that’s good.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a…” Steve paused and glanced over his shoulder. “Tenant? Roommate?”

“Why don’t we talk somewhere else?” Bucky asked. 

“Yeah, I suppose we should talk,” Steve put his hands on his hips. “Got a lot to catch up on, Buck.”

You stood at the window for almost an hour; watching, waiting. Finally Bucky and Steve appeared in the snow, jovial and unfazed. You frowned as neither seemed displeased by the discovery of the woman in the cage. 

Steve patted Bucky’s shoulder and climbed into the car that had appeared behind the other. They said farewell as any old friends would and slowly the car reversed down the long drive. Your hopes drove away with your newest acquaintance. 

Then Bucky looked up, as if he could see through the tinted windows, as if he could see you, and you shivered. He slowly disappeared beneath the eaves trough and you backed away from the glass. You had no doubt he’d be at your door shortly.

You went to the table and gathered up the paper animals. You tore each up before you crumpled them and dumped them into the bin under the counter. You weren’t a child anymore so why were you acting like one; so helpless and dumb.

He wasn’t long. The door clicked and you stopped to watch him enter. His anger had boiled to the surface since Steve’ departure and you were unprepared for its deluge. You froze as he swung the door closed and marched toward you. You flinched as he stopped only inches from you.

“Bucky…” You breathed.

His eyes flashed as they bored into you. “What did you tell him?”

“What?” 

“What did you tell him… Dora?” He snarled and you winced at your chosen name.

“N-nothing. He just…” You wrung your hands nervously. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I was just sitting here and he was just… there.”

“But what did you say to him?” Bucky insisted.

“I… He only asked me a name so I gave him one.” You trembled. “I swear, I told him to go, over and over. I begged him to.”

“Did you, now?” Bucky challenged.

“Y-yes, I didn’t… I didn’t want you to hurt him because of me–”

“Hurt him?” Bucky reeled. “You think I would do that?” He stepped closer. “You really think I would hurt him? Or maybe you think I’m going to hurt you?”

“No, Bucky, please–”

“Maybe you want me to hurt you? Is that what you’re waiting for?” He took another step and you took one back. “Is that what you want?”

You continued to retreat until he had you cornered against the wall, the bed just to your right. 

“No, no… I just want… No.”

“What do you want?” He asked as he planted his hand beside your head and leaned in. His nose almost touched yours. “Hmm?”

You were quiet as your eyes rounded. You shook your head and looked away from him. 

“Please…” You begged.

“Tell me what you want,” He hissed.

You tore your hands apart and pushed on his chest. You tried to shove him away and he grabbed your wrists. He wrenched them up and held them on either side of your head. His hot breath crept over your cheek and down your neck.

“Tell me.”

“Please,” You quivered. “Please.”

“Look at me,” He sneered. Slowly you turned to look him in the eye as his voice cut to your core. “Is that what you want? You want me to hurt you?”

“No, no,” You whispered. “I just–”

“Then why are you so afraid? Have I hurt you? Have I been unkind?” He asked.

You shook your head again but couldn’t speak. His nostrils flared and he released your hands only for his metal one to wrap around your throat. He wrenched you away from the wall and shoved you back until your knees hit the bed. He forced you down onto the mattress and swiftly climbed down onto you.

“Is this what you want?” He squeezed. “Is this what you think you deserve?”

Your eyes were wet and you clawed at his cold hand. “Buck–”

“Is this what you’re waiting for?” He pushed you into the mattress as his hand tightened and he rested his weight on you. “You just want another monster?”

You closed your eyes and tried to turn away. He pressed his lips to your cheek and dragged them to your ear. 

“Tell me what you want.” He whispered sharply.

“Go!” You rasped out. “Please just go.” Your throat scratched within his grasp. “Just leave me alone.”

He inhaled your scent and hovered his lips along your skin. His fingers swept up to your chin and he turned your face to him. You wouldn’t open your eyes; couldn’t. You felt his breath on your mouth and squeezed your lips shut. Your heart hammered loudly and the beating surrounded you like an ominous dirge.

“Fine,” He said at last, his lips tickled yours as he spoke. “I can leave you alone.”

He pushed himself off of you in a single motion. You opened your eyes and watched him edge away from the bed. His face was harsh and darkened with shadows. You blanched as you glimpsed the firmness lower down. You sat up and drew your legs to your chest. He didn’t look away as he neared the door.

“You wanna be alone,” He growled. “You got it.”

He punched in the code and ripped open the door. It slammed behind him and made you wince. You stared at the metal and touched your cheek, still warm from his breath. You hung your head and covered your face in despair. 

You sobbed and fell onto your side, curled up like that first night in the cold cell so long ago. The last night you had been a child. Well, you seemed to recall through the clouds, that someone had once told you to grow up already. 

_Oh, how the world had helped you along._


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You struggle on your own.
> 
> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, suicide attempts and thoughts, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Not much to say. I’m just kinda writing chapters as I can. I have ideas I need to sort out for the next few. To everyone who’s commented and sent your thoughts, thanks, it keeps me going. <3 Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments <3 Let me know thoughts, excitement, theories, anything.

The night of Steve’s appearance was quiet, almost serene. The knowledge that Bucky would not barge in and set your nerves on edge was the first reassurance you’d had in years. The next morning, you made your tea and marked the day in your notebook; though you wrote nothing more. You ate, exercised, watched some television, tried to read, ate again; filled your time with the little you had.

The second night you were kept awake by nightmares. Those which were so vivid, they felt real. Your body was left paralysed as you eyes opened and you saw the dark figures around you. The voices whispered indiscernibly. You fought the weight holding you down until you were able to sit up. The motion made you dizzy and you reached to the lamp to shield yourself in its light.

The third day after exile, another number on a page, you spent most of the hours staring out the window. The snow didn’t come so often and the sheets across the ground had plateaued. Soon, the powder would start to melt, though spring might still be far on the horizon. You fell asleep with your head at the foot of the bed as you stared at the moon.

The fourth day, you took a particularly long bath. You lingered until the water was lukewarm. Sank beneath its surface and held yourself there as the water began to seep down your throat. You bolted up coughing and hung over the edge. You cried. You were too weak to end it though all you wanted was for it to be over.

The fifth day, you made a bed sheet into a noose. You had nowhere to hang it nor the strength to. You wept again and untied it. _If you had a spine, how long would it have been before he found you there?_ No one would know of the girl in his guest room. The one who called herself Dora because she dreamt of a Wizard who was nothing more than a man behind a curtain.

The sixth and seventh days were spent on the floor. You slept there between bouts of sobbing; fits of anger; period of numbness. The eight, you broke a chair against the door. The ninth, you punched in a dozen codes before the pad flashed red and didn’t stop beeping for an hour. The tenth, you tried to jump through the window. You bounced off and laughed until you were out of breath.

It was like your old cell but worse. So silent. So desolate. You were utterly alone. You would rather hurt than feel this empty. At least you had a purpose before; maybe not your own, but you had one. Now you were just waiting for it to end. And there was only one way for that to happen.

Or maybe another.

The eleventh day, you took your notebook and the pen. You wrote slowly. ‘I’m sorry.’ Those were the only words you could manage. The only you could think to fix what you had broken. To get through to the man you couldn’t read. You crept over to the door and slid the sheet beneath the door. Then you waited.

It was dark before you heard the handle.

You were only feet from the door as it opened. You slumped against the wall as the figure appeared as he had that day long ago. He hit the light switch and the room lit up. He looked around silently. You had changed only once since he left you, your old clothes were strewn across the floor. The broken chair was beside you, and your notebook too. The few dishes you used were still dirtied on the counter. He let out a long sigh and shut the door.

He knelt beside you and touched your forehead then your cheek. He lifted your head and made you look at him. He peered into your eyes then looked around again. He raised his other hand and held up the note. He let you go and tore it up. He shook his head as he crumpled the pieces in his hand.

“No,” He said softly. “I’m sorry.”

He stood and tossed away the scraps. He returned to you as you hid your face. You hadn’t thought he would actually relent. You didn’t expect him to walk in on your mess; on your dissemblance. You were embarrassed. He could see that you were still that pathetic creature he’d found in the concrete box.

“Come on,” He cooed as he slipped his arms under you and lifted you easily.

He laid you down on the bed and neatened the blankets around you. He retreated and you watched his back as he bent and lifted the broken chair. He shoved it over by the door and picked up your notebook. He didn’t open it, only set it on the table where it usually was. 

Then he went to the sink and the faucet squeaked as he turned it. The clinking of dishes filled the space and you rolled over and closed your eyes. You feared what would happen when he finished. He would have nothing else to keep his attention and his anger would once more be upon you; likely fueled by your negligence.

The water stopped and you listened to him dry the dishes and put them away in the cupboard. Then his footsteps neared and the bed dipped behind you. He put his hand on your shoulder and tried to turn you to him. You resisted as you clung to the blankets.

“Dora,” He said meekly. “You can’t stay like this. You have to get cleaned up.”

You shook your head and tried to shrug him away.

“Sugar,” He squeezed your arm. The pet name surprised you. “When’s the last time you ate?”

You didn’t say anything but your stomach growled loudly at the mention of food. 

“Come on. Go get yourself cleaned up and I’ll make you something.” He offered. “You gotta be good… be good to yourself.”

You let him roll you onto your back. You looked up at him weakly. You were stunned through your humiliation. That he was being so kind. That he wasn’t breaking the rest of the furniture. That he wasn’t playing out the scene you’d dreaded in the back of your mind for more than a week.

“Wh-why–” You croaked.

“Tell me you’ll get washed up, sugar,” He gently pulled the covers from your shoulders.

You blinked at him and didn’t move.

“You gotta get up.” He rubbed your arm. “Come on.”

“I can’t,” You rasped. “I…”

“Sugar, I’d do it for you…” His fingers touched the hem of your sleeve, “I would but…” He paused and his tongue slipped out between his lips as his gaze followed the line of the vee neck. “Please. For me.” He caressed your cheek. “If you really are sorry, you’ll do it.” He traced along your bottom lip. “Or I’ll have to leave again.”

You grabbed his wrist without thinking. He was jolted by the sudden action but didn’t pull away. His lips twitched and a glimmer coloured his eyes. You clung to him. Your chest felt empty and your stomach clenched painfully.

“Don’t, please,” You begged. “Please, I can’t… be alone.”

He nodded and smiled. He leaned over you and kissed your forehead. “So get up,” He said quietly. “And get cleaned up for me, sugar.”

He sat back and you let him pull you up with him. He stood and pulled back the covers further and guided you to the edge of the bed. He forced you up onto your feet and his hand settled over yours. He detached you from his wrist though his hand lingered on yours. He let go reluctantly and went to your closet. 

He opened it and pulled out a pale purple night. He held it up and turned to offer it to you. 

“When you’re done, you can eat and then you need to sleep,” He neared and presented the nightgown to you. “You look tired, sugar.”

You slowly took the hanger from him and lowered your head. You felt the cotton between your fingers. “I am,” You admitted. “Very tired.”

You stayed in the shower for a while. You felt as if there was an invisible casing over your body. Your surroundings had become surreal. You scrubbed at your skin without thinking, then your hair. You stepped out onto the plush bath mat and let it tickle your feet. You dried off as you stared in the mirror.

Dora. She was a stranger and she looked back at you; doe-eyed yet dozy. You were that stranger now. _‘Sugar’._ That’s what he’d call you. You wondered if it was because you were sweet or because you were so quick to melt. You didn’t ponder long. It didn’t matter, truly.

You pulled the nightgown over your head. The straps were not as thick as they looked, nor the fabric. You could see your curves beneath, your nipples bumpy under the cotton, the skirt shorter than you hoped. You hung the towel and peeked one last time at Dora. She was perfect; hollow; malleable.

You opened the door cautiously and stepped into the room. Bucky was by the microwave, watching the numbers count down. He looked over his shoulder briefly but his attention quickly returned to the timer.

“I can get you a stove top but you’ll have to be careful,” He said. “It will make things easier.” The microwave beeped and he took out the tray of lasagna. “How about it?”

“Uh,” You stopped by the table. There was a new chair; like the old one. You looked up at him as he split the small lasagna between two plates. “Okay… yes, please. I would like that very much.”

“Alright,” He took two forks and the plates. He neared the other side of the table. “Sit. Eat.”

He paused and held the plates above the table. He looked at you fully, his eyes dipped down and trailed back up. He set the dishes on the table and slid one towards you. He cleared his throat.

“Go on.” He waited for you to sit before he did the same. 

You shifted in the chair and took the fork. Your stomach curdled in a mixture of hunger and revulsion. You were ravenous and yet revolted by the smell of burnt tomato. You looked up at him as you sensed his gaze. His eyes were predatory; expectant. You cut out a corner with your fork and bit into it with a hum.

“Oh, sugar, I was worried,” He said. “I thought maybe you were sick.”

You chewed, thankful for an excuse to remain silent. The nickname was both irritating and endearing. It was foreign and didn’t seem to fit and yet you wanted to hear it again. You swallowed stiffly.

“I am okay,” You replied. “I think.”

He nodded and took a bite. You glanced around the room. It was tidy again. As it had been when he’d first taken you there, but something was different. You thought of the concrete cell and the flimsy cot, the rusty toilet and dingy floor. You turned back to him and pushed the sauce around your plate.

“I…” Your heart fluttered. “I really am sorry, Bucky. I…”

“These things happen,” He said evenly. “It’s difficult at first. When you’ve only ever related to people as an object, it is hard to break free of that. You don’t see kindness as anything but a trick and your emotions all boil over so that you cannot see through the steam and then suddenly, you’re trapped in the flames.”

You looked at your lasagna., ate some more and thought. 

“Sugar…” He said. You lifted your eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I…” Your fork clattered to the plate and you sat back. You clasped your hands together in your lap. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

“You won’t be,” He set down his fork and reached across the table. “Not tonight. I’ll stay.”

“You will?” You asked. Your voice cracked and so did your will. He could see it; how fractured you were.

“If that’s what you want,” He kept his hand as it was. “All I’ve done is what’s best for you, sugar. Can’t you see that?”

You looked at his hand. His real hand. The palm was deeply lined but his fingers held no tension. You pursed your lips and carefully placed your hand in his.

“I… know,” You said as his fingers enclosed around your hand. “Thank you.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend some time with Bucky.
> 
> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we go. Another chapter, another mind bend. Hope you all enjoy and a reminder that I’ve opened anon again on tumblr and that I’m always open to chat. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments <3

Bucky held you that night. Something about him had changed. Or maybe you had. His embrace was no longer a suffocating vise but warm and reassuring. You slept sounder than you ever had. His heart beat as steady as his snores.

You wanted him close. You didn’t want to be alone. You couldn’t be alone again. The thought of him leaving woke you and had you nestled into him. His metal arm hugged you tighter though he did not rouse.

You felt his breath on your hair, inhaled the scent of him, felt the firm flesh against you. This man was all you had. The room meant nothing. It was him. He was a safe haven from a world that had been cruel. He was the only one who could protect you from it; from yourself.

Slowly, he stirred and his arm slipped just a little. He grumbled and tugged your night gown down along your thigh. It had bunched up but you barely noticed. He fell onto his back and rubbed his eyes.

“How long have you been awake?” He asked.

“Not very long,” You replied and sat up. You were cold without his touch.

“Mmm,” His hand slipped to his chest as he considered you. “You slept okay?”

“Very well, actually,” You assured him. 

You fidgeted and crossed your legs. You looked down at your hand and traced the lines on your palm. You stomach felt terribly hollow.

“What is it?” He asked but made no move to rise.

You chewed your lip and shrugged. You looked at the window and then around the small room. You didn’t want to say the words, afraid they would come true if you did.

“Tell me,” His fingers caressed your arm.

“Are you–“ You paused and turned to him. “Are you going to leave me again?”

The lines of his face lessened and he smiled, just a little.

“Is that what you’re afraid of?”

You were embarrassed by his amusement. You frowned and untangled your legs. You turned your back to him and shimmied to the edge of the bed. He caught your arm before you could stand.

“Sugar,” He coaxed softly as he drew you back to him, “I won’t leave you today… but I will have to go eventually.”

You let him pull you down beside him though you kept your eyes down. He let go of your arm and framed your face with his hand.

“I think we should talk,” He said solemnly. “So that you understand why you’re here.”

You nodded glumly but still couldn’t look at him. He pushed your chin up and moved closer. His heat seeped into you and a chill crept up your spine.

“Talk?” You wondered.

“There are things I need to tell you but…” He glanced away. “…you just have to do one thing for me, sugar.”

“One thing?” You blinked. “What’s that?”

“Just a kiss,” He said. “That’s all.”

You felt a strike of electricity go through you. Your eyes rounded and you stared back at him stunned. _A kiss?_ None of your captors had ever deigned for such courtesy, such simplicity. Your floundered in confusion.

“I don’t… know,” You sputtered and shook your head. “I don’t think I ever…”

“Just a peck, sugar,” He rolled closer and his arm snaked around you. “It’s easy.”

His blue eyes were smoky and alluring as they met yours. He leaned in and you could taste his hot breath. Your eyelashes fluttered and finally closed. You puckered and forced your lips to his.

His lips were soft and the kiss was gentle. He pressed himself to you until he threatened to crush you and his hand slipped down to your chest, just along the rise. It stopped there as he hesitated.

He pulled away suddenly and fell onto his back. He took a deep breath and you opened your eyes. He shuddered as his hand balled into a fist on his stomach.

“Sugar,” He said quietly. “Would you mind fixing some coffee?”

You didn’t mind making coffee but you had avoided doing so up to that point. The compact machine was confusing and you were quickly frustrated by it. More so when Bucky came to help and showed you how easy it was to put the pod in and close the lid. You really were hopeless.

He took it black. You set the mug before him and brewed your own. You couldn’t remember if you liked coffee but it smelled delicious. You added a dash of milk and sat at the table. You picked at the handle nervously as Bucky sipped and watched you over his cup. 

He set it down and leaned back. He wore only his briefs and his metal arm rippled as he tapped his fingers on the mug. His hair was still messy from sleep but his eyes were alert.

You drank the bitter brew and it filled you with an alluring warmth though it did nothing to calm your nerves. Bucky took the measure of you before he slowly leaned forward.

“I told you I know what it is to be kept,” He began. “It’s how I got this.” He raised his metal hand. “I had to earn it.”

You gulped and wrapped your hands around your mug. You listened intently.

“But I wasn’t kept in a hole, I was kept on ice. And they used me to kill good people. I had no choice; I wasn’t me.” His fingers tensed as his hand fell to the table. “But that doesn’t excuse me. And even as I have started to hunt the bad instead, it cannot balance my ledger. The red can never be erased but I have to try.”

He bit his tongue as he thought.

“It’s why I couldn’t bring myself to hurt you, sugar. I could see you were like me and more, you are good.” His voice was sombre. “I had no one. Not at first. Not until Steve found me but he can’t know what it’s like. Not really.”

You searched his face and saw nothing but truth. A keen honesty shown to few.

“So you see, I had to help you, protect you, because there is no place in this world for people like us.” He rubbed his fingertips on the table top. “This world wants nothing to do with us.”

His words left you out of breath; terrified. Because they were true, because you had already thought them. He only confirmed your greatest fear. Freedom had flown away long ago.

“Do you understand now?” He asked.

You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest, if only to hold yourself together. He pushed his chair back and watched you. His face was drawn with concern.

“Come here, sugar,” He beckoned you to him. 

You stood numbly, your thoughts flurried until they were indecipherable. You crossed to him shakily and he guided you into his lap. He cradled your head and rested it on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, sugar,” He caressed your cheek, “You had to know. This is just the way it needs to be.”

You nodded and held back the emotion that threatened to spill over. You were exhausted from the constant barrage of chaos within. You sat there a while and hid your face as he held you. The steam that rose from his coffee thinned and turned to air.

You sat up and looked him in the face. “Your coffee is going cold.” You said.

“I don’t mind, sugar,” He smiled. “Long as I got you.”

He was close. He was fixated on your lips. You were suddenly shy and found it hard to look at him. You wiggled in his lap, eager to retreat. He held you there like it was nothing.

You gulped and his eyes followed the movement of your throat. You stared back at him a recalled the way he’d kissed you earlier. The very act seemed to soften him, calm him. Perhaps another would grant you another respite.

You leaned in nervously and he seemed surprised as your lips met. He flinched but welcomed you. His arm hugged you and his metal hand stroked your neck.

But he didn’t let you pull away. His tongue glided along your lips and poked through. You were too weak to resist, wrapped in his strength, in his command. You tasted him and he hummed into your mouth.

You let him lead you. You recalled a movie you’d seen long ago. A couple kissed in the rain and clung to each other as if it were their last. You couldn’t recall the story but you tried to act as if there was one between you and Bucky.

He drew away at last. He took a breath and wiped his mouth, his tongue brushed over his bottom lip. He averted his eyes as he basked in the lingering taste. His hand was firm on your hip.

“Sugar,” His voice was gristly. “Are you hungry?”

“I…” You saw the way his eyes had darkened. The pupils dilated and dangerous. “Sure. Should I make us some breakfast?”

“Yes, please,” He rasped. “Whatever you want.”

He nudged you out of his lap and you rubbed against a hardness that surprised you. You didn’t look down as you rose. You rounded the table and took your mug. 

“Okay,” You drank from the cup and turned away.

“I’m gonna get washed up,” He said and you heard the chair wobble as he stood.

“Alright,” You didn’t look back as you approached the counter. “It should be ready when you are.”

After Bucky’s shower, he left to grab some clothes. As the door shut, your heart began to race. He said he’d only be gone for five minutes but to you, that was an eternity. _What if he was lying? What if it was another eleven days?_

It was barely as long as he said. You watched the door until he returned. You acted as if you hadn’t as you set out the plates on the table. He thanked you and sat.

“Sugar, I was wondering if there was anything you wanted.” He said.

“What do you mean?” You broke the yoke and dipped your bacon in it.

“Do you like to draw? Maybe paint?” He asked. “You can’t watch tv all day. Maybe you want more books?”

“Magazines,” You blurted out.

“Magazines?” He echoed.

You looked down shyly and took a bite of egg. You glanced up at him nervously.

“Fashion ones. I like… I always did like to look at the clothes.” You confessed. “I remember little things… but none of the big ones.” You stirred the yolk as it cooled and turned sticky. “Why is that?”

“Little things are easy,” He said. “The big things can be hard; painful.”

You nodded and ate some more. You wished you could remember the faces, the names, the voices. It was all just a vicious blur gnawing away at your sanity. 

“Sugar…” He said.

“Why do you call me that?” You asked. 

“I can call you Dora,” He offered. “If that’s what you like.”

“I… don’t hate sugar, I just wanna know why…” 

“Because once you were sweet, you still are,” He said. “You should know it. You should be treated like you deserve.”

“And did…” You began and his brow twitched. “Did I deserve those eleven days alone?”

“Well, sugar, it was the only way–”

“And all those years in that box?” You demanded. “Alone, afraid… abused!”

You gripped your fork and scowled. The sudden peak of emotion overwhelmed you. He was hard fazed by it.

“Of course not,” He rose slowly and went to you. “No, no, that’s why you’re here now. With me.”

He knelt and took your hands. He held them in his and kissed each.

“But think, if you hadn’t been, you’d not have ever met me,” He said and squeezed your hands. “You would not have me to protect you.”

He let go of your hands and moved between your legs. He pressed his head against your stomach and hugged you.

“And I wouldn’t have you, sugar.” He purred. “Don’t you know I’d be lost without you?”

You looked down at his dark hair. He was warm, calming even. You slowly raised your hand and stroked his thick locks.

“I… I guess.” You said. “It must’ve been for something.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything’s perfect until it’s not.
> 
> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up that I don’t know how updates will continue on. I’ll be working on other non fanfic work as well as a medieval!Steve fic at the same time as this. Also the world is wild right now and I don’t know exactly what’s gonna happen in the next week or so. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments <3

Bucky spent six days with you. You tracked them as diligently as those alone. You woke together and fell asleep together. It was a stark contrast against the near two weeks in your solitary gloom. You basked in it. You welcomed his attention, his stolen kisses, for dread of what would happen otherwise.

On the seventh day; whole week, you woke up alone. You sat up in a panic but his voice soothed you. He stood at the window, his broad back lined with muscles and tense as he dragged a finger down the glass. You let out a quiet sigh and laid back as you drew the covers over your shoulders.

“Tomorrow…” He said glumly. “No, I know… but you can’t– No, no. Fine. Yeah.” He bent his fingers and pressed his knuckles to the window. “Alright. Bye.”

He hung up. He was angry; you could tell by his tone, by his stance. You didn’t move as you hoped he wouldn’t notice you, but his eyes were on you in a moment. He placed his phone on the window ledge and forced a smile. He crossed to the bed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I just had to deal with some business.” He lifted the edge of the blankets and crawled in next to you. He hugged you to him as he nestled against the pillows. “Morning, sugar.” He kissed you and nuzzled your cheek.

“Morning,” You croaked as you succumbed to him. 

He clung to you for a while. Silent. He was content to embrace you as his chest moved against you. You closed your eyes, tempted to fall back asleep. You thought he had until his voice broke the lull.

“Sorry, sugar,” He withdrew his metal arm and rolled flat on his back. His other arm remained beneath you. “I got bad news.”

“Bad news?” You propped yourself up on an elbow. 

“I have to go for a while,” He said. An icy dagger sank into your chest. “Just a few days.”

“Go?” You gasped. “Bucky, please…”

“You know I have to,” He reached over and stroked your cheek. “You rid this world of one evil and another rises.”

“But- but–”

“You have the phone,” He said. “You have all you need to keep you well. You’re safe.”

“No, no,” You sat up. “No, I can’t be alone… you don’t understand. If I’m alone, I’ll…” 

You clamped your lips together and spun away from him. You scurried across the bed before he could catch you. You heard him though, behind you. You raced into the bathroom. You slammed the door and pressed your body to the other side. He thumped into it but made no effort to open it, though he could have easily.

“Sugar,” He pleaded. “You know I can’t stay here all the time. I can’t keep you here if I have no money.”

You frowned. He was right but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to be alone again. The thought already had the darkness creeping over you. You turned and leaned on the door. You stared at the tub. You thought of how you had kept yourself beneath the water. What would he do if he came back and you were blue and bloated?

“Can’t they send someone else?” You asked.

“It’s my job, sugar,” He said gently. “I don’t want to go any more than you want me to but don’t you know why I have to?”

“No,” You grumbled.

“Because of you,” He answered. “Because I know it will keep you safe and happy here. With me.”

“Can’t I…” You paused and knew it was a hopeless question. You asked it anyway. “Go with you?”

Another silence. You heard him sigh and his fingers tapped on the door. “You know you can’t.” He uttered.

“I know,” You accepted, “I know but… I don’t know if I can be alone again.”

“You call me when you wake up and I’ll call you before you sleep,” He coaxed. “I’ll make sure you’re okay, sugar. You won’t be alone, I promise, not really.”

“I will,” You insisted. 

“Sugar…” His voice deepened and the door jolted. 

You stumbled as he pushed through. You turned to face him as you caught yourself on the sink. His metal hand was in a fist and his jaw ticked as he blocked the doorway with his body.

“You’re being a child,” He snarled.

The change was so sudden it was like a slap across the face. This man who held you not moments before had become a snorting bull. His eyes were almost black as they bore into you and his features were tinged with irritation.

“Bucky,” You stepped away from the sink, “Bucky, I’m just scared.”

“You’re stubborn.” He crossed his arms. “And ungrateful.”

“No, no, never,” You clasped your hands together and neared him cautiously. “I could never–”

“You think I want to leave you?” He challenged. “You think I want to go out and kill just to put food on the table?”

“Bucky,” You fought to keep your voice from quavering. “I… I’m sorry, I’ll be good.”

“All I do, I do for you,” He snapped. “And you still treat me like a villain.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” You reached out and touched his arm. “I really didn’t. I… I overreacted. I–”

He moved so quickly you yelped. He grabbed you and pushed you back until you were against the sink. His hands squeezed your arms painfully as if he wanted to shake you. You gripped the porcelain and quivered as you looked up at him. You felt as if you couldn’t breathe.

“You don’t know how good I’ve been to you,” He snarled. “I could be bad.” His metal hand slipped from your arm and stretched over your throat. “You don’t know…”

“No, you’re not bad,” You pleaded as you touched his metal arm. “You aren’t. I know that. Please… I’m sorry. I didn’t–”

His lips crashed into yours as his fingers tightened on your throat. His tongue invaded your mouth and his other hand fell from your arm. He snaked his other hand around you and kneaded your ass roughly. You pushed against his chest as he devoured you and crushed you painfully against the sink.

He hoisted you up onto the edge of the sink. His hand slid around to your thigh and he forced your legs apart as he stepped between them. He pinched you sharply and pressed his fingers to the crotch of your panties. You whimpered and tried to rip his hand away.

You could hear the chaotic beating of your heart. You could hardly gulp enough air past his grasp and his lips. Your eyes burned with tears and you bit down on his tongue. He tore away from you and you kicked out at him as he touched his lips.

You hopped down from the sink and nearly fell to your knees. He spat blood onto the tile as you hurried for the door. He caught the back of your nightgown and you grabbed the doorknob desperately. 

He grunted and shoved you against the door instead and quickly pinned you there with his body. You sobbed and he gripped the edge of the door as he trapped you there. He took slow, measured breaths and shuddered. You felt him nuzzle your head as he leaned into you.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. His anger swept away as quickly as it came. “I’m sorry, sugar.” His hand brushed along your hip and his erection poked you through his briefs. “I’m just… scared too.” He kissed the top of your head. “Very scared.”

“It’s…” You trembled between him and the door. You braced yourself for more but he remained as he was. “It’s okay. I know… I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t,” He uttered into your hair as he slowly pushed himself away from you. “I didn’t. Sugar, I’d never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” You stuttered; lying to yourself as much as him. “Yes, I know you wouldn’t. I know, Bucky.”

Even after your argument, you were sad to see Bucky go. He left early and you watched through the window. He glanced up as he closed the trunk and waved though he could not see you. He knew you were there. _Where else would you be? What else did you have?_

He drove away and you went back to bed. You didn’t sleep, just laid there. You thought about him lying there beside you. You ignored the tug at the corner of your mind; the way his eyes would change, his voice too, the feel of his hand on your throat. You lingered there until just before noon. The sun was brighter than usual, or perhaps your world was darker.

You were roused by a peculiar noise. You sat up as the door handle clicked and you clutched the blanket as the door slowly opened just an inch. A knock came and a familiar but unexpected voice came from the other side.

“Dora?” Steve kept himself hidden behind the door. “Is it okay if I come in?”

You gaped at the door. You hoped Bucky had found some excuse to get away and returned to you. You never expected to see Steve again, let alone that day. Yet, you were happy to hear his voice. You glanced down at your pajamas and threw away the blankets.

“Just a minute,” You called back as you got up and rushed to grab your robe and pull it on. “Okay.”

You stood with your hands clasped together as Steve inched the door further inward. He entered cautiously and closed the door softly behind him. He had a box under his arm as he smiled over at you.

“I didn’t disturb you, did I?” He asked.

“What are you doing here?” You didn’t answer him.

“Well, I promised Bucky I’d check in on you.” He said as if it should have been obvious. “And I… well, I got you something and I just couldn’t wait.”

“What?” You tilted your head. “You got _me_ something?”

“Nothing special,” He shifted the box from under his arm and held it out to you. 

You blinked and took it from him. It was an origami kit, complete with patterned paper and an instruction book. You gazed down at it and smiled. Your cheeks hurt from the unusual gesture. You peered up at him and hugged the box.

“You really got this for me?” You asked.

“Yeah, I saw it and thought of you so I… grabbed it,” He chuckled nervously. “Anyway, Bucky just asked me to dip my head in and make sure you weren’t too lonely.”

“Oh, you’re not staying?” You wondered.

“I can, for a bit,” He offered. “But I don’t wanna intrude or anything.”

“No, not at all,” You could barely withhold your joy, or explain it. “Do you want a tea or coffee?”

He seemed surprised by the question. He gave a small chuckle and tucked his hands in his pocket. “Not much for coffee. I’ll just have some water.”

“Okay,” You placed the box in the middle of the table. 

You filled a glass as he unzipped his jacket and hung it over a chair. He sat and you set the water before him. He smiled and thanked you. Suddenly restless, you made yourself sit.

“Do you… I dunno,” You ran your fingers along the edge of the box. “Do you wanna make some?”

“Sure,” He said. “I forgot my frog last time.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry, I…”

“I can make another one,” He assured you. “A better one… I’ve been practising.”

You laughed under your breath, afraid he might hear you. The idea of him folding little frogs on his own was almost comical to you. You wiggled the lid off and started to unpack the contents of the box.

“Dora,” He ventured, as if afraid to spook you. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Your voice squeaked and you scrunched your lips in embarrassment. “Good. I’ve been… here.”

“Oh… and do you like it here?”

“Like it here?” You wondered. “Of course, why wouldn’t I? I have everything I need here and…” You frowned and looked through the booklet. You peeked up at him again. “Why are you asking?”

“Just wondering how you are, Dor,” He said smoothly. “That’s what friends do.”

“Friends?” You repeated.

“Well…” He shrugged. “Hoped we could be.”

You nodded and looked through the rainbow of paper. You took a sheet and handed the stack to him. 

“I don’t have any friends,” You said quietly.

“Well, what about Bucky?” He asked.

“Yeah, uh, Bucky, of course but…” You were shaking. The paper was too. You slapped it down and spread your hands over it. “We can be friends, too.”

“Good.” He smiled again. “You know, I don’t have too many myself.”

You looked down and folded the paper down the middle. You distracted yourself with the straight lines; corner to corner and back to back. Bucky could be nice but Steve _was_ nice. You glanced up at him as he took the booklet and flipped through to the frog pattern. You mulled over the word ‘friend’. You supposed it had many different meanings.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cracks begin to show.
> 
> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my mind because I don’t feel like my medieval Steve is ready just yet so I cranked this out instead. Hope y’all like this part and I’ll try to keep up as best I can. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments <3

You spent more than an hour folding paper with Steve. You found a few of the more complicated designs as he kept to the more simplistic ones. He seemed content and you felt as much. He made small talk as you worked and you caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t aware.

You sat up and stretched your neck. You were starting to cramp from being hunched over. He raised his brows as he lifted his head and you gave a shy smile. You pushed yourself up and paced slowly around.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, just… stiff,” You touched your hips and turned away.

You neared the window and glanced out. The snow was thinning, the grass peeked out in patches. You wished you could open the window just to smell the mud and moisture. But you couldn’t. 

You huffed and turned back. Steve watched you placidly as you leaned against the window ledge. He tilted his head curiously.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Nothing,” You lied. “Just stretching out the kinks.”

He glanced around. His eyes fell on your little exercise bike and he gave a pitiful look. Then he frowned and exhaled as he played with a paper butterfly.

“It’s been a long winter,” He remarked. “Too bad.”

“I wouldn’t mind the snow or the gloom,” You turned back to the window. “If only I could go out and smell the air; hear the trees; feel the wind.”

“Oh… you don’t go out?” He wondered.

You looked down and shook your head as you spun back to him.

“It’s not safe,” You said. 

“All the way out here? For a couple minutes? Who could could that hurt?” He asked.

“But…” You tried to argue but the thought of leaving the room had your heart in a titter. “I don’t know…”

“You don’t wanna go for a walk? Just around the yard?” He offered. “I’ll be there. I think I can keep you safe.”

“I don’t… I don’t have a coat or shoes,” You said. “How will I–“

“They’ll be a bit big but I’m sure Bucky has something you can borrow.” He suggested.

“But… if he finds out…”

“I can keep a secret if you can,” He smiled. “Come on. It hasn’t been this sunny in months.”

You clasped your hands together and wrung them. You bared your teeth nervously and swayed back and forth. 

“I don’t… I don’t want to get you in trouble. Really. I’m not supposed to–”

“You ever just wanna do something because it’s fun, not because it’s something you’re supposed to do?” He asked.

“Well I…” _Never really had that choice,_ you thought. “You won’t tell him?”

“What Bucky doesn’t know, can’t hurt us,” Steve assured. “So, what do you say?”

You bit your lip and tried not to smile. You nodded and shyly looked down. You still wore your pajamas and the robe. “I should change first,” You mumbled. “I won’t be long.”

You wore a baggy coat and pair of oversized boots. You wrapped the laces around the ankles of the boots several times before tying them tight. You must’ve looked like some sort of duck as you stomped around. You didn’t mind as the prospect of a stroll outside made your nerves flutter.

Leaving your room was in itself overwhelming. You looked up and down the hall several times before you found the strength to go further. The stairs were another obstacle and the further you got, the more you felt as if you would dissolve into a cloud. Steve led you to the front door and opened it for you. 

He waited for you to go first before he followed. He pulled the door closed as you looked around the front yard. You were frozen in disbelief. The air was chilly but not bitter. You could hear the distant chirping of the birds who harkened the arrival of spring through the trees. 

Steve passed you and hopped down the steps. He turned back to you with his usual cheer. 

“Well, you coming?” He asked. 

You nodded and tucked your hands in your pockets as you ambled down the stairs in the large boots. With his long legs, he could easily outpace you but he kept his steps measured as he walked you down the drive. He was close, but not too close. Occasionally, his arm brushed against yours.

He turned and you followed as he guided you through melting snow and around to the back of the house. You passed the shed and the same tree you scaled in your escape. You didn’t look up at the broken branch or search for a sign of your failed flight. That was long ago. That was a naive girl who didn’t realise she had nowhere to go.

Behind the house was a small forest. You followed Steve as he led you to the trees and you glanced around at the barren sentinels. The peeling white bark of birch and the old creased skin of walnut and oak. You reached out to touch one and let it scratch against your palm. It was real. 

You could sense him watching you but he said nothing. Only stood patiently as you took the path a step at the time. You paused to examine a groove in a trunk or pick out a pine cone with a particularly pleasing shape. You would toss them back as you went along and carried on through the thawing brush.

He turned you down another thin trail, this one harder to see through the muck and snow. He held your arm to keep you from slipping and you squeezed together as he pushed past the thin branches. You heard the water ahead and gasped. He guided you to the small river and let you go.

“Oh,” You exclaimed and rushed forward. You looked down into the frigid water as it trickled slowly over pebbles. “Oh my god.”

He was only a foot away as he came up beside you. He watched you kneel by the river and pluck a rock to toss in. It sank with a plop into the shallow ripples and you repeated the act. You laughed like a child and grabbed a stick to drag through the water.

“Thank you,” You breathed as you looked up at him. “Thank you, I… I never thought…”

“It’s nothing, Dora,” He knelt beside you and watched the water fork around your stick, “I told Bucky he shouldn’t keep you pent up in there. It’s not healthy.”

“Well, he’s only trying to help me,” You looked away guiltily. Your body went rigid as you thought of Bucky. “You know, he’s just… if he found out we were here…”

“You worry too much,” He put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “If he did, I’d tell him it was my idea. It was, you know? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You were quiet as you flicked the stick out of the water and tossed it away. You stood and clapped your hands off on the jacket. It smelled like Bucky.

“So…” You began as you paced along the edge of the water. “You said you work with Bucky.”

“I do,” He rose but made no move to near you. 

“So why aren’t you with him now?” You asked.

“Well, sometimes it’s better we work alone,” He said coolly. “He prefers it really. We only work together in the sense that we work for the same people.”

“And you… kill bad men, too?” You wondered.

“You know,” He let out a long breath, “I try not to. I only try to save people… people like you, Dora, but Bucky… he has a different perspective. I’d rather see the bad men locked up and he’d rather see them, well, dead.”

“Oh,” You stopped and poked your toe along the edge of the water. 

Bucky’s job wasn’t to kill the bad men, it was to stop them, _but wasn’t that the same thing?_ You recalled he said his orders were to kill you that day but it didn’t seem likely if his goal was to help people like you. You frowned as your thoughts stormed and bounced off each other wildly.

“So, what would happen…” You started but quickly swallowed your words. “Never mind.”

“What?” Steve asked as he took a step closer. 

“No, it’s stupid.” You said. “I’m stupid.”

“You’re not, Dora. As little as I know you, I’d say quite the opposite,” He smiled. “So ask me.”

You looked down and backed away from him. He didn’t try to follow you, only turned as you rounded him. You crossed your arms and spun to face him.

“If you found someone like me, would you have to kill me?” 

His face fell and his chest rose as he stifled a sigh. His jaw tensed and for a moment, he resembled Bucky; steely and dark. He shook his head as his blue eyes flicked away.

“No, Dora, no, I wouldn’t,” He said. “We don’t kill innocent people otherwise we’d be as bad as those we try to stop.”

You felt the breath go out of you. That couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Bucky couldn’t have lied to you and yet, as you peeked over at Steve, he didn’t seem to be either. _Did he know where Bucky found you? Had he been there that day too?_ Your head spun and you gripped it as if it would fall off your shoulders.

“Did he tell you where I came from?” You asked sharply.

“He said he found you, or rather, you found him,” Steve shrugged. “Said you wandered into his backyard with bruises and little more than a sheet to keep you warm.”

You shook your head and clutched your head tighter. “No, no, no, he couldn’t–” You blabbered. “No, no, that’s not how it happened.”

“Dora,” Steve inched forward and you backed away from him. “Dora, it’s okay. You’re just… confused. You’ve been through a lot and sometimes our minds distort the truth to protect us.”

“No, I remember!” You shouted as you ripped your hands away from your head and balled them into fist. “I remember!”

“Dor,” He said softly as he reached out to you, “We should go back.”

“No, he’s lying.” You exclaimed. “You’re lying!”

“Dor–”

You slapped his hand away as he tried to grab you and kicked out. He flinched and you reeled away from him. You spun and quickly dashed towards the trees. The boots slid through the mud but you kept your legs moving as you dove into the brush. You could hear him behind you, not far. You knew he would catch you; he was bigger, stronger, faster. You didn’t care as your chest burned with anger.

“Dora,” He yelled after you as he chased you. “Dora, stop!”

You wouldn’t; couldn’t stop. You just wanted to be alone; to be away from this cursed place. You were so utterly stupid to have believed Bucky. To have trusted him. He could be nice but he could also be terribly cruel. He was no different from those men who held you in that concrete box. And Steve, he could be no better.

You were suddenly stumbling forward as a weight crashed into you from behind. You fell into the mud and the air was knocked from you as Steve landed atop you. You wiggled around and wrestled with him as you cried out. You managed to roll over onto your back and clawed at his large chest. He caught your wrists and held them to the ground as you writhed beneath him.

“Please, Steve,” You begged. “Please…”

“Why did you run?” He asked breathless.

“Why won’t you let me?” You returned. “Why are you helping him?”

“He’s my friend and–”

“You said _I_ was your friend,” You snarled. “You said we were–”

“Bucky’s not bad.” He insisted. “I know he’s not. And I know he only means the best for you, Dora.”

“No, no,” You struggled under his weight. “No…”

“Yes. He’s right. We both know it.” Steve said desperately. “There’s nowhere else for you Dora. Nowhere. Nothing short of another cell or a street curb.”

You went limp beneath him. Your eyes were wet with tears as your chest swelled with dread. 

“But I could try–”

“What’s you’re real name, Dora?” Steve asked. “How old are you? Where are you from?”

You searched his face frantically. There were no answers. They were all gone; stolen from you. You shook your head. 

“Please…” You said softly. “Don’t tell Bucky.”

“Dora, I have–”

You lifted your head and pressed your lips to his before he could protest. You hoped that he was as easy to appease as Bucky. Your kisses were your only protection. Your only value was your body. Just as before, you were a toy to be played with.

You dropped your head back and he stared down at you. His forehead was creased and his eyes wide with shock.

“Why did you do that, Dora?” He breathed.

You blinked at him as your lip trembled.

“Why?” He repeated.

You turned your head away from him and shivered. He released your wrists and pushed himself to his feet. He reached down and lifted you by your arm. He was silent, you feared, seething. He turned you back to the path and marched you toward the trees. 

You reached over with your other hand and grabbed his. He stopped and looked over at you. You squeezed and gazed up at him. He let go of your arm as you clung to him.

“I did it because I wanted to,” You said.

Steve gulped and looked up into the trees. He nodded and took your other hand and continued on. His boots crushed the twigs and wet leaves loudly. His fingers tightened and loosened over yours as you got closer to the house.

“I won’t tell him,” Steve uttered at last. “It’s our secret, Dor.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky returns.
> 
> Warnings: dubcon/noncon sexual acts, violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s part 12, dunno when 13 will be. Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments! <3

Before he left, Steve picked out a few of his best creations and few of yours to take with him. You placed the rest on the top of the book shelf after a stunted goodbye. You watched him leave through the window as you had Bucky. He stared up at the window before he got in his car and idled longer as if he were reluctant to go. Or maybe you were just being hopeful.

You sighed and turned away as the drive was left empty but for the muddied tire tracks. You fell onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. When the silence was likely to drive you mad, you flipped on the television and dwelled in its flicker. The sky darkened outside and a weight settled over you. 

_Would Bucky know when he returned? Would he sense the change? In you? In Steve?_

You fell asleep in the glow of the screen but didn’t stay that way. You woke several times during the night but when the sun rose, you didn’t. You just wanted to stay there forever. You had nowhere to go, nothing to do, no one to see.

You spent the day like that. You got up for water and the necessities; nothing more, nothing less. The time fed your anxiety. You found it hard to think of anything but your walk in the woods; the chase; the kiss. How it felt different than kissing Bucky. How you kissed Bucky out of obligation but kissed Steve out of desperation; not just for his silence but for a sense of warmth.

On the third day, you made yourself get up. You had to or you wouldn’t ever again. Even when he returned, even if he dragged you out. Another hour, and your thoughts would get the best of you.

So you ate breakfast without tasting it; a hard-boiled egg on toast. You washed your dishes and left them in the sink. You went to the window and watched the birds newly-returned from their migration. Spring was just over the horizon.

You went to the radio and flipped the stations until you recognised an old melody. Odd how you could recall the lyrics even after so long. You closed your eyes as you were taken away to the backseat of the car. You stared out at the swaying fields of grain and the circling hawks above. But you couldn’t see the driver; she kept her face forward and there was only the road ahead.

You shook off the moment of eerie nostalgia and went to the bathroom. You left the door open as the music floated in behind you. You cranked the shower on and hummed along until the song came to the end. The next you didn’t know but let it play as you piled your clothing on the tile and stepped beneath the stream. You pulled the curtain closed and sighed in the heat of the downpour.

_‘…Just as it was, baby; Before the otherness came; And I knew its name; The drug, the dark; The light, the flame…’_

The sumptuous voice and willowy lyrics took you away though the tune remained unfamiliar. You shut your eyes and scrubbed your hair with scented shampoo then washed your skin with flowery soap. You stayed in the cloud of steam; lost yourself in it and raised your face to the shower head as you let the water splash over you.

You didn’t hear the door or the footsteps, it was only the friction of the rings that alerted you to his presence; his long-awaited and now unwelcome return. You broke from your trance as you were thrust back into the present. You turned to him without modesty; Bucky stared back as his hand gripped the curtain.

He was streaked with grime and blood. His dark hair was oily and his eyes were fire. The curtain tore from the rings as he yanked it aside. He stepped into the tub, his boots bled dirt into the stream. You pressed yourself against the tile as his metal hand slapped the wall beside your head. You could smell the smoke, the death upon him. You could feel the darkness radiating from him.

“Bucky…” You were breathless as he leaned over you. 

His other hand trailed down your stomach. He seemed not to hear you and you looked up at him. His eyes were almost black. You touched his cheek and kissed him. It didn’t wake him as you hoped. His metal fingers scratched against the tile and his other traced the vee of you pelvis.

“Bucky, it’s me. It’s Dora…” His metal grip closed on your throat and you gasped as you slapped at his hand.

“Dora…” His voice was stony as he spoke. “My Dora.”

The water spattered against your shoulder and his. He tilted his head and his eyes roved down your body. His hand slipped down and he cupped your chest. He played with your nipple until it was hard. You shivered as his other hand crawled over your thigh.

He turned you suddenly against the other wall; the water noisily hit his back as he held you against the tile. He knelt before you and kneaded your thighs as his eyes settled between your legs. You squeezed them together and his fingertips poked painfully into your flesh. He leaned forward and nuzzled you. Slowly, he pried your legs apart.

“Bucky…” You whined as you struggled not to slip on the porcelain.

His tongue flicked along your cunt and you whimpered. You pushed on his head as you tried to wiggle away and he caught your hands. He twined his fingers in yours as his mouth continued to toy with you. His grip was immovable as he held your hands to the wall and delved deeper. 

His tongue made long strokes along your folds and swirled around your clit. Your breath picked up in shock. You were filled with repulsion as the chill left your body and heat began to creep from your core. It wasn’t supposed to feel. It never felt good before, but this had never happened before. The men never used their mouths; never worried for your enjoyment, only their own.

Your fingers tangled with Bucky’s as the wet sounds of his mouth mingled with the buzz of the showerhead. You quivered as the flames turned to a vibrant electricity and rippled over your skin. You moaned and squealed without restraint and your feet slipped from beneath you.

Bucky caught you. His hands swiftly parted from yours and he scooped your legs over his shoulders. He lifted you easily as he stayed on his knees, never drawing away as he devoured you. You slapped the tile as your legs bent around him desperately. The wave that washed over you was torturous and yet you couldn’t get enough. You cried out at the sudden release that left you limp and panting.

But he didn’t pull away. Not at first. He drank up your delight and slowly caught his breath. He drew back and looked up at you. You covered your face in shame. He carefully lowered you back to your feet but not for long. He swept you up in his arms and stepped out of the tub. You shook your head in dismay as your thighs tingled still. 

_Why did it feel so good?_

He carried you out of the bathroom and gently placed you on the bed. You laid, still, stunned. He left for a moment and returned to pat you dry with a towel. You let him but turned your back to him as he got to your hair. You reached over and curled the blanket over you.

His footsteps trailed away and the shower screeched to a sudden stop. He didn’t return. The bathroom door clicked shut and you covered your face with the blanket. Your hand slipped down between your legs; your cunt still swollen; your body still wanting. 

You weren’t supposed to want him. You decided that in his absence but you were always just a step behind.

There was a long silence before the shower began again. Only the radio continued though the words were a blur. You could hear the clink of buckles as Bucky undressed and the groan of the porcelain as he stepped into the tub. You tried to lull yourself to sleep, to lose yourself in your daze, but you couldn’t. You could only listen and languish in the dread of his arrival.

The water stopped and another lull followed. Then the door opened and the footsteps were lighter; hesitant even. He walked around the bed and turned the radio off. He sighed and you opened your eyes. You squeezed them shut as you saw his bare ass and thick thighs. You hugged yourself tight as the bed dipped beside you.

Bucky tugged at the blanket and slid it away from your body. You shivered as you were naked before him; arms folded over your chest and legs twisted together. He gently nudged you onto your back as he pressed himself against your side. He traced the line of your collar bone and let out a long breath.

“I missed you,” He said quietly. “Did you miss me?”

You clamped your lips shut and turned your face away from him. He dragged his nails along your skin.

“Sugar… you know I don’t like it when you don’t answer,” He warned.

You nodded frantically and another sigh escaped him. He leaned heavier on you as he reached over and grabbed your chin. He forced your head back so that your eyes met.

“I wasn’t…” He began. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t myself. I hadn’t…” His blue eyes strayed to the edge of the mattress as he thought. “When I am working, I am different and I hadn’t… I’m me again. The soldier is gone.”

“The soldier?” You blinked and grabbed his wrist. 

“Did he hurt you, sugar?” He asked. 

You stared at him. You shook your head in confusion.

“I don’t understand, you–”

“No, it wasn’t me…” He caressed your cheek as he spoke and your hand fell back. “I never would hurt you, you know that.”

You were silent. You gulped and let him touch you. You looked to the ceiling and focused on the grey padding.

“Did it hurt?” He asked again.

You closed your eyes and shook your head slowly. You had felt many things but there had been no pain. He was quiet as his hand fell back down and brush along your cleavage, your other arm still bent over your chest.

“How did it feel?” He whispered. You felt a prod against your thigh and he wiggled closer.

“Bucky…” You begged. 

“Sugar…” He breathed against your cheek. “Tell me.”

“No.” You tried to roll away but he quickly wrapped his arm around you and pulled you to face him. “Please…”

“You liked it,” He purred. “You don’t have to be embarrassed of it.”

“Stop,” You struggled against him. “Stop. No, I didn’t. I never… never liked it.”

“But it didn’t hurt…” He said. “So… it must’ve felt good.”

“Why?” You asked.

“I wonder the same,” He clung to you as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I wonder why you continue to fight when I am not like them. Dora, I saved you.”

“But you keep me all the same,” You insisted.

He growled and pushed you away. You fell flat on your back as he sat up. His hands were fist as his nostrils flared. The muscles in his back tensed as he shook his head.

“No, I protect you,” He sneered. “I am not like them. I am not the soldier.”

“You’re wrong,” You sat up slowly. “You don’t protect me… you can’t protect me from the soldier.”

His shoulders fell and he was quiet. His hand slowly opened and he stared at his palms. His breaths were measured and loud; like snarls. He turned suddenly, his hand on your throat as he pushed you back down to the pillow.

“No, you’re wrong,” He bent over you so that his nose almost touched yours. “I can. I am.” His fingers squeezed just a little. “Right now.” His eyes darkened as they bore into you. “He wants to hurt you but I won’t let him.” He ripped his hand away and draped his arm over you. He fell down onto the pillow beside you. “I won’t. I won’t. I won’t…”

He recited the words over and over as you laid frozen against him. His body shuddered against yours and he hugged you to him. He was still hard. You closed your eyes and waited but nothing happened. He repeated the words until they were nothing. Until he was snoring beside you and you were left restless. 

You didn’t dare move for fear of waking him. Or worse, waking the soldier.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky surprises you. Then you surprise yourself.
> 
> Warnings: dubcon/noncon sexual acts, violence, trauma, allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, torture, (handjob, masturbation)
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has hung in there. I managed to finish this chapter and figured I’d share it with you all after you waited so long. Again, I’m sorry about being all over the place. Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments if you are so inclined <3

You woke to a tickle along your spine. You shivered and opened your eyes. Bucky’s arm snaked around you and he drew himself against you as he had the night before. He was hard again. He let out a gasp as his erection rubbed against your ass. He wiggled just a little and groaned. You tensed and grabbed his wrist.

“Let me up,” You said quietly.

“Sugar,” He breathed and rubbed your stomach. “How did you sleep?”

“F-fine,” You pulled at him arm but he didn’t seem to notice. “Please, Bucky…”

“Stay,” He purred against your ear as he lifted his head. He kissed your cheek. “It’s okay, sugar.”

You gripped his wrist and he twisted his hand suddenly. His metal fingers grasped your hand as he pushed his arousal against your ass. He sighed at the feeling of your body and guided you onto your back. You looked over at him, your nerves jittering beneath your skin. 

He guided your hand across your stomach and to his. You touched the firm muscle and trembled. He slid your hand down and closed it around his cock. You tried to pull away but he was too strong. He began to move your hand along his length. He leaned on his other elbow as he hovered over you. 

His lips were just above yours as he whispered. “Don’t stop.”

He squeezed your hand and slowly drew his away. He caressed your hip as he rocked against you. He kissed you suddenly, hungrily, all the while your hand kept going; almost with thought. Was this the soldier? 

You turned your head and gulped. “B-Bucky?”

“Mmm,” He nuzzled your cheek.

“Is it you?” You asked as he moaned. “Not…”

He reached down and stopped your hand. “Look at me.”

You turned your head slowly to meet his gaze. His blue eyes clung to yours and the lines around them deepened.

“It’s me…” He hissed. “I am not the soldier.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t…”

He moved your hand again, this time faster.

“I am not the soldier,” He repeated as he led your strokes. “I am not…”

His hand left yours again and he grabbed your chin. He kissed you roughly and forced his tongue past your lips. He growled as he tried to devour you. He parted and rubbed his nose against yours as his finger settled over your throat.

“More,” He demanded. “More.”

You moved your hand faster and whimpered. There was that darkness in his eyes again. You closed yours and he crashed his lips down again. You just wanted it to be over.

He squeezed your throat and pulled back. He pressed his forehead to your temple and his hot breath seared your cheek. His body stiffened and began to shake as his hips spasmed. He let out a snarl as you felt the warmth explode across your thigh and down your hand. You slowed and he twitched wildly in your grasp.

His fingers loosened and you let go of him in shock. He fell onto his back with a sigh. You peeked down at his cum smeared across your palm and thigh. You were sickened as it cooled on your skin. You sat up and he caught your arm.

“I gotta… get cleaned up,” You said.

He looked you over and a smirk threatened to curve his lips. He released you and dragged his fingers over his stomach and shivered. You turned your legs over the edge of the bed and stood. You walked slowly around the bed.

“You will know the soldier when he comes.” Bucky warned.

You stumbled slightly at his tone but didn’t dare to look back. You scurried into the bathroom and closed the door. Your hand shook as you twisted the faucet and began to wash away the mess. You stared at yourself in the mirror as you wiped clean your thigh and tossed the tissue in the toilet bowl.

Your fingers returned to your thigh and crawled lower… curiously. You dipped between your legs and felt the wetness that had gathered there. That was you, not him. You winced as you tickled your clit and a thrill rolled up your back. You repeated the motion and it happened again.

You glanced at the door and listened. You heard no movement on the other side. You gripped the edge of the sink and spread your legs wider. You pushed your fingers between your folds as you explored your cunt. You swirled around the slickness around your clit and circled your fingertips. You flicked faster and faster as the sensation spread to your thighs and hips. More intense with each touch.

You held your breath as you closed your eyes. You were back on the forest floor, a heavy weight over you. Steve had you pinned as his blue eyes peered into yours. In your head, it was his hand between your legs. His heavy breaths that bounced around you. It was him. You could smell him, feel him.

Your eyes shot open as you came. You watched yourself in the mirror, appalled and shocked. You quivered and pulled your hand from between your legs. You shut the faucet off as you tried to catch your breath. That was wrong. Steve was a friend, he wasn’t that. But you had kissed him and he hadn’t resisted.

But he also hadn’t kissed you back.

You sniffed and gripped your head. The door opened and surprised you. You dropped your hands and turned to Bucky as he peeked in at you.

“Hey,” You squeaked. “I was… gonna take a shower.”

“Sure, sure,” He smiled as he made no move to enter. “It might be a good idea. We have a visitor on his way.”

Your eyes rounded and you blinked. He chuckled.

“Just Steve,” He said. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Uh, well, I guess,” You replied. 

“Good,” He said. “I just gotta go do a few things before he gets here. Okay?”

“Okay,” You breathed.

“I’ll be back soon,” He promised and backed out of the bathroom.

You stared at the door as he pulled it shut. Would Steve tell him about the forest? He said he wouldn’t but his loyalty might not be so strong to some girl he barely knew. A girl who didn’t know herself. But he was good. You knew he was. You could see it in him. He must be good because he was your only hope.

You scrubbed yourself frantically. Scratched away the filth of your guilt as the hot water scourged your skin. You didn’t know what was worse; his touch or your own. Or even your fleeting thoughts; your lurid fantasy of a man you barely knew. 

When you emerged from the steamy bathroom, Bucky was gone. You were relieved by his absence. That feeling was odd. You glanced around and walked the perimeter of the room, your towel knotted above your chest. You peered out the window and turned back to the messy bed. You tidied it and rounded to the other side.

You bent to the bottom shelf of the bookshelf and slipped out the square box. You slid the lid off carefully and pulled out a square of red paper with white stars speckled across it. You returned the box to its place and grabbed the pen from your notebook. Your nerves were wild as you placed the sheet on the night table and bent over it, your back to the door.

_‘Steve. I’m afraid. Please take me away from here before he can hurt me. Dora.’_ You drew a little heart and placed the pen down.

You couldn’t think of what else to say. There was too much you could say. Too much to explain on the square of paper. It would have to do until you had a chance to tell him more. If you had the chance. If he didn’t reveal your little sojourn to Bucky or you attempted, if pathetic, flight.

You folded the paper with trembling fingers. You sharpened each bend with your fingernail and turned and flipped the page until it was a springy little front. You pressed down on its reat and it did a little hope. You examined it, assured that your messy scrawl did not show, and placed it with your line of animals along the shelf.

You dressed carefully. You chose a blue dress that went to your knees, the pleated skirt cinched at your waist, and the cap sleeves puffed above your shoulders. You pulled on a pair of frilly white socks and for a moment, you felt absurd. Almost like a living doll. You neatened your hair in the mirror and tried to smile at yourself. At Dora.

You returned to the room and heated a bowl of water until it was boiling in the microwave. You still lacked a proper stove. You filled the teapot and added several bags of breakfast tea. You distracted yourself by setting the table with three cups. A little tea party.

You were dazed as you looked down at the spread. You weren’t in that room anymore, but another one. Brighter, with yellow walls and pink cushions set around a plastic table. A stuffed elephant to your left and raggedy ann to your right. The cups were empty and painted with flowers.

You snapped back as the lock on the door clicked and you looked up as Bucky entered. His dark hair was pulled back in a bun and his beard was freshly trimmed and combed. He was followed by another. You held back a smile as Steve’s golden locks peeked over the darker head.

“I made tea,” You announced proudly.

“Very good, sugar,” Bucky said as he looked around.

“Hi, Steve,” You felt your cheeks warm as he smiled at you.

“Hey, Dora,” He neared the table and touched the rim of one of the cups. “What kind of tea?”

“Green,” You answered. “I didn’t have any black left.”

“I’ve never had green tea,” He pulled out a chair and sat. Bucky continued to walk around the room. “But I’d love to try it.”

You poured a cup for him and he drew it close. He inhaled the gentle scent and watched the steam rise.

“Steve said you behaved when I was gone,” Bucky stood at the window, his hands clasped behind his back. “You understand that you have to listen to him as much as you listen to me.”

“Of course,” You filled a cup for yourself. “Do you want any tea, Bucky?”

“No,” He said as he kept staring into the yard. 

“You…” You hovered around the table as you set the pot down. “You didn’t even notice what we made.”

“Hmm?” Bucky looked over his shoulder with a slanted brow.

“I made you a wolf,” You took the grey paper from the row. 

He turned entirely and stared as you held up the animal. He squinted.

“Steve brought me some nice paper,” You explained. “So we made these.”

“Oh,” He nodded and spun back to the window.

“Oh, Steve,” You put the wolf back and took the freshly folded frog. “You forgot yours.”

You set it beside his cup as he pressed his fingertips to the warm porcelain. His brows lowered as he considered the frog but he took it nonetheless. He made it hop a few times. 

“I did forget,” He said. “Thank you.”

“I like to practice,” You sat. “If you unfold it and refold it, it’s easier to remember.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve took the frog and smiled again. He tucked it carefully in his front pocket just below his jacket. The brown leather was aged and cracked around the seams.

“Well, aren’t you staying?” You wondered as you gestured to his coat.

“It’s sunny out,” Bucky said sharply as he turned and marched across the room. “We thought it would be a good day for a walk.”

“A walk?” You blinked dumbly as you looked between them. “I don’t–”

“Steve is right. You need sunlight. It’s not fair to keep you pent up all the time. Not like this.” He sighed as he leaned on the chair. “But you have to be good, you understand?”

“Good?” You echoed. “I am… good.”

“You are, sugar,” He assured you. “But it can be overwhelming. Going out after so long.”

You nodded and thought as you leaned your chin in your hand. You glanced at Steve and he sipped from his cup. He hadn’t told Bucky what you did. He really was your friend.

“Can we have a picnic?” You asked. “I can make some sandwiches.”

Bucky took a breath and tapped his toe.

“It’s still cold out,” He warned. 

“I’ll wear a sweater.” You said. “Please. I… want to watch the birds. I want to smell the air and see the sunlight. Please, Bucky.”

“I think a picnic sounds fun,” Steve intoned. “I remember we had one back in France. Right before this big mission. We could hear artillery as we sliced the cheese…”

“Fine,” Bucky shrugged. “But you remember to listen.”

“I will,” You folded your hands together. “I promise.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go exploring but go a little too far.
> 
> Warnings: dubcon/noncon sexual acts; violence; trauma; allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, and torture; blood.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m at a bit of an impasse rn. I can’t finish any updates for my ongoing series and I’m torn between working on two new ones and I’m just a mess. Sorry.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments <3

You waited at the front door with Steve. You were anxious. To be outside. To be with the man who made you feel curious things. To be with another who made you feel terrifying things. 

You swayed back and forth nervously and listened to Bucky’s footsteps grow nearer. He handed you a denim jacket lined with fleece. It was your size. You took it with a quiet thank you as he placed two pink boots by your feet; a much girlier version of the standard work boot. You pulled on the coat and knelt to tie your boots. 

As you kicked out your other foot, you bared the thick tights Bucky had ordered you wear beneath the dress. He cleared his throat and you fixed the skirt as you stood.

He nodded to Steve who opened the door and preceded you out. Bucky followed closely and caught your arm before you could catch up to the other man. You stared at the basket in Steve’s hand and let the other man cling to you. He took your hand in his and squeezed it as your eyes flicked up to the sky.

“It’s so…” You gazed at the clouds as he led you down the steps. “Beautiful.”

Bucky grumbled and continued on behind Steve who stopped at the front corner of the house. He continued on as Bucky gestured towards the shed and you blinked as you came in sight of the line of trees. Steve was barely fazed as he followed the same steps you’d taken only days before.

You stopped as you reached the row of trunks and you reached out to touch one. Bucky tugged on you but not much as you flaked away a patch of bark. You rubbed it in your fingers and carried on. Your stomach began to dance. 

_What if he did know? What if this was some trick?_

You heard the river and your heart clenched. You couldn’t let him see. You carried on to a small clearing by the river bed. You didn’t want to go any further. Just over there was where you’d run. Just beyond was where you were tackled into the dirt. Where you’d kissed him. You relished his soft lips in your memory but turned away.

“I’d like to eat by the water,” You said. “If that’s… okay?”

“Alright,” Bucky released you hesitantly as you reached for the blanket folded over the basket in Steve’s grasp. 

Snow remained in heaps under the bigger trees but much of it had melted. The mud was dry enough that it didn’t suck at your boots and would ruin the flannel. You laid it out and smiled. It was such a simple act. A pleasant little scene amidst a script of pitfalls. Steve put the basket down on the corner and you sat as you began to unpack.

Steve sat first. He was big enough that it was awkward for him to cross his legs. Bucky toed the edge of the river and stared into the shallow ripples. He turned back and resigned himself to the corner nearest you. His hand strayed to your ankle as he settled onto the ground and he squeezed. He glanced at Steve and drew away quickly.

You offered Steve a sandwich and then Bucky. They accepted and you ate quietly as the river trickled. Your eyes flew up as a bird did and then you stared particularly long at a leaf. Wet and torn. Even the dirt was entrancing. 

Finished, you dusted off your hands and stood. Bucky caught your wrist. You stopped, stooped slightly and looked at him. He frowned. 

“What--” He growled.

“I want to see the river,” You said as you touched his metal hand gently, as if it was truly his. “Maybe I’ll see the true me staring back for once.”

His brow wrinkled but he let you go. You felt his eyes follow you as you went to the river and knelt down, the tail of your skirt brushed in the dirt as you took a stick and ran it back and forth over the surface of the water. You spun it until a little whirlpool formed and you withdrew it as you watched the storm peter out.

Your eyes were teary and your cheeks damp. You looked up at the looming woodland watchers. The crooked branches and shrouded brush. You could hear laughter, footsteps. You were running behind a girl. She looked like you but younger. Much younger. And then she was gone and your fingers were cold as they dangled in the water.

You pulled them back and wiped them on your jacket. You bowed your head and covered your eyes as the sob forced its way out. You sniffed and choked it down as you sensed movement behind you. You stood and turned back to the men. Steve remained as he was as Bucky stood tentatively on his feet.

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

“Fine.” You went back to the blanket and lowered yourself to the ground. “I think you were right. It’s too much.” You folded your arms over your knees and rested your chin atop them. “I’m weak. Scared.”

“You’re healing,” Steve offered.

“She--” Bucky stopped himself. “She’ll be fine.” He turned and tramped close to the trees. “I gotta… go.”

There was a silence and then you giggled as you realised what he meant. He turned back halfway and glared at you.

“Must be the river,” Steve kidded. “It’s even making me a bit antsy.”

“Watch her,” Bucky bid and disappeared into the trees.

You waited until his steps faded away. You looked at Steve and bit your lip.

“Do you think he knows?” You asked.

“I didn’t tell him,” He swore. “I put the coat back and the boots.”

“Steve.” You said softly. “Why--” 

You were quiet as you shrugged away your thoughts and peered over his shoulder.

“Why what, Dor?” He asked.

“Why are you letting him keep me?” You whispered.

He sighed and tilted his head. He peeked at the trees and reached out to touch your cheek.

“He’s helping you. Keeping you safe.” He caressed your cheek. “Isn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” You said. “I…”

“And where would you if he just let you go?” He asked.

“With you.” You said plainly. “Aren’t we friends?”

Steve shook his head and drew away. He inhaled and cleared his throat as he heard Bucky’s boots in the brush. He sat back and gave a sullen smile.

“I guess the bears are still hibernating,” Steve called over as Bucky appeared. “Or maybe you’ve scared them all away.”

Bucky’s brows raised but he was barely amused. He crossed to you and bent. He tugged the blanket harshly and jolted both you and Steve.

“We should go.” He said tersely. “We’ve been out here long enough.”

“But--” You began and his sharp look quieted you.

Steve stood and helped you up. Bucky bundled the blanket messily over the basket and picked it up.

“Yeah, I guess I should head back to the city,” Steve tucked his hands in his pockets. 

“Oh,” You looked down glumly. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be back soon.” He said. “Right, Buck?”

“Maybe,” Bucky grabbed your arm and turned you away from the river. “I’ve got a lot going on. _We_ have a lot going on.”

You watched Steve drive away before Bucky ushered you inside. He dropped the basket carelessly inside the door and waited for you to shed the jacket and boots. He hung the former and kicked the latter aside. His own were added to the rack and mat in turn. He pointed you up the stairs. You were suddenly very nervous. 

That morning, he had been loving, if a little forceful. But his demeanour had turned so quickly. Once Steve appeared he had become the cold and distant keeper. The sun only seemed to cook up his paranoia.

You dragged your feet to the stairs and he followed you up. He was close as you got to the top and he grabbed your shoulders as he pressed himself against you.

He turned you and walked you down the hall. He directed you into the room; _your_ room, and the door locked behind him. Like it always did. His hands squeezed your shoulders and he hummed as he urged you further in. Then, he suddenly shoved you and you stumbled. You fell onto one knee and gasped.

You tried to stand and he caught the back of your neck and held you down. You were forced to drop your other knee as you fell forward onto your hands.

“Bucky,” You gulped as your arms shook against his strength.

“I saw it. The footprints. His, yours. It’s not difficult to connect the pieces. The little tussle you had in the dirt.” He forced you down onto your stomach. “You ran. Worse, you kept a secret from me.” He scoffed and leaned over you to hiss in your ear. “Even worse than that, you had him lie for you. To me.” 

He pushed your head down and you turned so that your cheek was flush to the floor.

“I didn’t--” You uttered. “Bucky, please. It was his idea. He wanted me to go for a walk and I just… I wasn’t thinking.”

“You weren’t.” He kept you there, pinned. He straddled you between his thick thighs. “Oh, you must’ve had fun laughing at me today. So stupid. So clueless.”

“No, it’s not-- I was only scared. Without you.” You reached back and touched his hand. The metal cold and numb. “I didn’t-- Not today. I didn’t run.”

“And that means…?” He spread himself over your, his knees just beside your thigh. His other hand tugged at your dress as his metal arm stretched over your shoulders. “I’ve been so nice to you. So patient. And you lie to me. Over and over.”

“Please, don’t…” You begged as you clawed at the floor. “This isn’t you. It’s not. I know, Bucky, I know. It’s me Dora. Your sugar. And you will fight it.” You croaked. “Fight the soldier, Bucky. Protect me. Please. You said you’d keep me safe.”

He stopped. He was still as his heavy breath glossed over the back of your head. Slowly, he lifted himself off of you. You carefully pushed your arms beneath you and got up to your knees. You were heaved to your feet suddenly and he tossed you against the bed. You fell onto the mattress and he was quick to seize you again. 

He dragged you up and had you on your back. He straddled you again and his hand pinned your chest. You slapped at him as he worked at his belt and ripped it free of the loops. You cried out, begging him to stop. His eyes were dark. It wasn’t Bucky. 

He wrapped the leather around your neck and tightened it. He wound the other end to the bedpost and knotted it. He backed off of you and slipped his hands beneath your skirt. He tore the tights from your legs as you struggled between him and the belt. He turned you and tied your hands behind you with the tights and let you fall back onto them.

He threw your skirt up and reached to his ankle. There was a sheath hidden there and he withdrew a knife. His jaw was set, his eyes were stone.

“I know you’re in there, Bucky. I know.” You cried. “Please, please, don’t hurt me. I’m your sugar. Your Dora.”

“This is what you like,” His voice was gravelly, distorted almost. “The pain. It’s the only thing you understand.”

He pressed the knife to your thigh and you screamed as he sliced your flesh. He grabbed your leg and squeezed.

“If you don’t stay still, it will be worse.” 

It felt as if he would break your kneecap. You sobbed as he continued to cut, drawing deliberate lines along your thigh. 

“Longing,” Slice. “Rusted,” Slice. His voice rose louder and louder. The words were garbled through your anguish. “Seventeen,” On and On. “Daybreak, furnace, nine, benign, homecoming, one, freight car.”

When he stopped, the warm blood caused the cuts to throb and burn. He held up the knife and showed you its red edge. You could barely see past your tears. He stared at the silver and wiped it on his jeans. He replaced it in his sheath and backed away. 

He climbed off the bed and watched you. He closed his eyes and lowered his face. He twitched and turned away. His hand, his real hand, shook. He went to the door and paused as he grasped the handle.

“Stay as you are,” He snarled. “Be a good girl and it won’t hurt.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You realise that everything had changed, yet it’s all the same.
> 
> Warnings: dubcon/noncon sexual acts, ora, intercourse; violence; trauma; allusions to abuse and noncon, isolation, and torture; blood.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just hope you guys like it. Don’t have much to say. I appreciate your support.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback in the comments <3

You didn’t sleep. _How could you?_ Your leg was throbbing and sticky with your own dried blood. Your neck ached from the leather which held you in place and your arms were twisted behind you painfully. You were trapped and when you closed your eyes, you were back in that cell. The one before.

The day passed outside the window. You watched the sun decline and the sky darken. There was no moon that night, you could tell. No silver slat peeking in, no pale light to chase away the shadows. Just you and the night.

You didn’t know how late he came. It might not have been very late at all but the seconds seem to drip by slowly. His shadow appeared in the door as the locked beeped. Broad, sinister. He left the lights off as he neared. You tried to roll away but you only choked yourself.

He came around the far side of the bed where you teetered on the edge and shifted you over. He sat and touched the belt. He tugged it and you coughed. You couldn’t see his eyes but you knew they were still dilated, still hungry. You could tell by his touch.

His fingers danced along the top of your dress and hooked beneath your collar. You yelped as he tore through the fabric with a yank. He wrenched your body as he shredded it. You gasp as it revealed your rosy bra and panties. His hand cupped your breast through the padding and he squeezed. He slipped further down along your stomach and bent to inhale the scent of your hair.

“Why did you do it?” He snarled. “Why did you lie?”

“I was… scared,” You croaked as your eyes watered. “Please, Bucky--”

“Don’t call me that,” He hissed. “I am not Bucky.” He pinched the tender flesh along your hip. “Not when you’re bad.”

“I didn’t mean to… Please, I’m good. Bu--” You stopped yourself as he clenched your panties. You trembled and watched his fingers through the shadows.

“I will show you how to be good,” He ripped the panties down your thighs, grazing the cuts painfully as he stood and pulled them past your ankles.

He came back around and snapped your bra open with another jostle. He could break you just as easily. You knew that. You pushed your legs together and winced. The tortured cuts reverberated in agony. He paced around the bed and he lifted his shirt over his head. It rustled to the floor. You shivered.

Then he worked at his fly and bent to push his jeans down. He took his time in undressing and all the while you felt his gaze. Felt his anger and more. A different sort of heat.

He climbed up and grabbed your ankles. You could see his erection bobbing before him as he pushed between your legs. As he bent them up until your knees were at your chest. So that you were bare to him, trapped by your restraints and the torn dress.

He bent and you wriggled. He kissed the cuts along your thigh. The flesh had opened again and he licked up a warm trickle of blood. He hummed at the taste and his hot breath continued along your thigh. His hands slipped to your knees as he held your legs up. His tongue flicked over your folds and you squeaked.

“What are--”

“Shut up,” He raised his head. “No more talking. A good girl takes her punishment. Silently.”

You whined and he pulled a hand back to slap where he had cut you. You clamped your lips together to keep from squeezed and he grabbed your leg again. You dropped your head down and he buried his between your legs. You gasped as he slid his tongue along your cunt.

He closed his lips around your clit and sucked. The pressure bubbled there and he swirled his tongue in turn. Your fear boiled with unwanted lust. You couldn’t help the delight which bloomed in your core. You mewled and his grip tightened again. A warning.

You measured your breaths and swallowed back the moans. He lapped hungrily and the ends of his hair tickled your thighs and pelvis. Your fingers knotted around your other hand and the belt tightened at your neck. You quivered uncontrollably as your orgasm began to build and he pushed your legs even higher. Your back ached but the pain was dulled by the rising ecstasy.

Then he stopped. He sat up and watched you squirm as he kept you bent in half. He smiled, you could feel it, his features hazy in the dark. His cock rubbed against your cunt and he wiggled his hips. He teased you and you let out a shaky whimper. He waited until you were were wriggling desperately and moved closer.

He curled your back so your ass was in the air and your knees were almost beside your head. Your weight was entirely on your shoulder as the leather choked you. He got to his feet and stood over you. He bent his knees as he lined himself up with your entrance. Your eyes rounded and you pulled against your binds helplessly.

“Bucky,” You pleaded. The room dissolved and you were in the dank cell. That smelly hell. He dipped inside you and you cried out.

“Good, good,” He hissed. “I want you to scream now.” He snarled. “Scream!”

You cried out as he pushed himself to his limit. As he stretched your walls around his thick cock. You gritted through your teeth. That fullness, that hopelessness, it was the same as before and yet it wasn’t. He rammed into you, hard, and you yelped. It hurt. A pleasant pain but pain nonetheless.

He was relentless. He didn’t wait for you to adjust. No one ever did and you never could. It never got easier. You let out another shout as he slammed into you again, again, again. He didn’t stop and you didn’t tell him to. That had never worked.

He leaned more of his weight over you, his hands beside your head as he held himself over you. Each thrust was harder than the last, hungrier. He leaned down and kissed your lips, ending with a harsh nibble of your lip. He kept it between his teeth as he pounded into you and bit until you tasted blood.

His metal hand gripped the belt and the buckle pressed into the skin of your neck as he pulled it tight. You couldn’t breathe. The bed shook under you and his flesh loudly slapped against yours. Your voice punctured the even rhythm of his desecration, more and more of his weight sunk into you with each thrust.

Your head spun and your vision speckled.

“I can’t--” You gasped as his growls rumbled through you. “Can’t--”

Your eyes rolled back as your chest burned. You wheezed and the spots grew bigger, until they met and painted your entire vision. You were unconscious before you realised what was happening. Falling into an endless void. A bottomless pit where you felt nothing. Where, for once, you weren’t afraid.

Your throat was brittle, as if you’d swallowed glass. Your chest was heavy, a snake constricted you, slowly easing its hold. The room was a dull shade of gray as your eyes slowly opened. Dried tears salty on your cheeks, spittle along your lips, blood too. 

The leather was gone from your neck and your arms were free but heavy. Your muscles were tight and achy. You felt a coolness on your thigh, the rough cloth flaked away the blood. Another made the flesh sting and the smell of alcohol reached your nostrils. You glanced down, your head on the pillow, the rest of you naked and prone.

Bucky pulled back and reached beside him. He opened a bandage and applied it to your thigh to cover the cuts. He smoothed it down and you flinched. He looked up and his eyes met yours. There was no expression there, only recognition.

He didn’t say anything. He dipped the cloth into the basin on the night table and wiped around the bandage and then your cunt. He cleaned away the resin of his trespass and then traded it for a new cloth. He sidled up the mattress and wiped your face, he mopped away the icky feeling of dry sweat along your neck and chest.

You grabbed his hand and stopped him. You wrestled the cloth away and used his arm to pull yourself up. He watched you but his face remained placid. You knew that apathy. You feared it more than anger.

“How do you want it?” You asked as you dropped the cloth on the table. “Should I turn around? Bend over? They always preferred my mouth.”

He looked down at last. Your lip trembled.

“You’re just like them and I was stupid enough to think you weren’t.” You uttered. “I see it. You don’t even feel bad.”

Still, nothing.

“Why didn’t you just kill me?” You asked. 

He pushed his shoulders back and tilted his head. His jaw squared.

“Because you’re mine,” He stood and gathered up the basin. “I found you. I saved you. I clothed you. I fed you. I…” His voice was startling, the mutters of a thunderstorm before it turns the sky black. “I love you. They never loved you, Dora.” He lifted the basin and turned to you. “Because they don’t know what it’s like to be like us.”

“No, you don’t. You can’t love.”

“Sugar--”

“No.” You stood. “There is no difference. You, Bucky, the soldier; you’re the same.”

“No, no, no,” He shook his head. “No, we’re not.”

“You are. And I’m not Dora.” You said. “I’m just that animal they kept in that cage.”

“No!” He tossed the basin and the water splashed across your legs as the glass smashed. “No! Dora!” He grabbed your shoulders. “I am not the soldier!”

“Then why can’t you stop him?” You huffed. “Why did you let him do that?”

He was quiet again. His eyes searched you.

“Because it wasn’t him,” You said. “Because it was you.”

He swallowed. His nostrils flared and he shook his head. He back away as he grabbed his head and marched around the room. The muscles of his back tensed and his arms bulged as he repeated it over and over. “No, no, no.”

You weren’t afraid. You were numb. You looked at the window. The early morning dim. It would rain soon. The storm was coming.

“On your knees,” His voice was quiet.

You glanced at him and your lips fell open. He held your gazed and pushed the elastic of his briefs down. He was hard. His eyes were dark but you realised they had never been very bright. He stepped forward and you shakily got down to your knees, one leg at a time.

He stepped out of his underwear and stopped in front of you. Your eyes roved down the thick muscles of his torso, the sheer power corded in flesh. He grabbed his cock and pressed the tip along your lips.

“You want me to be like them,” He squeezed your chin with his other hand. “Then I will be.”

You opened your mouth as his grip threatened to crack your jaw. He pushed inside, deep enough for you to gag. You slapped against his thighs and he brought both hands around your head. He moved your mouth up and down his length. He fucked your face until spit poured out around him. Until you were choking and gasping; dizzy and disoriented. 

And when at last he pulled out, he let you go. You sprawled across the floor and felt the hot ribbons stream over you. His cum laced along your lips, chin, and chest as he finished himself. He scoffed and walked away. You listened to him gather up his clothes. You panted on the floor. 

“You won’t be seeing Steve again,” He said as the pin pad beeped and the door opened. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Clean yourself up.”

The door slammed behind him and the lock clicked into place. You sobbed and sat up slowly. You looked around at the messed bed, your ripped dress, the belt still tangled around the post, your tights twisted like a snake, glass and water strewn across the floor around you. 

You tasted the salt of your tears and his cum as you tried to wipe him away. You slid your nail along the edge of the bandage and lifted it. The adhesive tugged at your flesh. You revealed the star carved into your thigh and blinked through the steady flow.

You clumsily struggled to get up. You fell to your knees as you reached out for anything to latch onto. You crawled frantically past the bed and table. You vomited across the tile of the bathroom just as you broke the threshold. Your arms shook as you stared down at your bile.

After everything, you were stupid enough to think your body was truly yours. That you were anything more than a toy; a tool. You weren’t Dora, you weren’t Sugar, you were nothing. _No one._


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse, noncon, isolation, torture, suicide attempts and thoughts, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: We’re in the endgame now, haha, you get it. I know it’s been a while but here we go again. <3 Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback <3 Let me know thoughts, excitement, theories, anything.

Bucky didn’t return that day. Or the next. 

After cleaning up your puke and trying to wash him away from your skin, you spent the hours face down on the bed. You could smell him on the sheets and taste him in your own tears. You could feel the violence of his touch still. The searing along the flesh of your thigh and the ache deep in your core. It was worse than any pain you’d known before; he wasn’t just another nameless man. He was a monster you couldn’t forget. Or escape.

When at last, you stopped sobbing, you succumbed to the pit deepening in your stomach. You ate unsalted crackers and the last of the grapes from the crisper. You opened your notebook, then closed it, opened it again, then tossed it against the wall with a shriek.

_Why write about what happened when it had never ended?_

Another day passed. You weren’t lonely, but you weren’t relieved either. It didn’t matter when Bucky came, you knew he would, and you knew what would happen.

You stared out the window. It was dark again. You could see the spring peeking out through the mud. The snow that lingered was dirty and melting. The stars twinkled in the sky beyond the stretching branches of the trees that swayed in the night breeze. But all you could do was look; you couldn’t smell the damp or hear the birds as they returned from their winter sojourn or feel the subtle bite of the dwindling winter. You were like an animal in a cage, at the mercy of others pleasure but not to have your own.

You flinched as you heard the door beep. You turned slowly as it opened and pressed yourself to the tinted glass, your fingers curled around the sill. Bucky shut the door behind him, another shadow in the gloom. The lights flicked on and he planted his hand above the switch as he watched you. 

You stared back, dumbfounded. As much as you expected him, the visit was a surprise. As much you had prepared yourself for the inevitability, the dread drowned you and left you speechless and paralysed. As much as you’d been through, you couldn’t handle anymore.

He dropped his hand to his belt and the noise of the buckle made your skin crawl. He approached the bed slowly, letting his fly gape open as he pulled his shirt over his head. Hs bared his broad chest, that wall of muscle you couldn’t break through, and dropped his shirt without regard. He nodded to the bed.

“Go on.” He eyed the hem of your cotton night shirt. You changed once since he’d left you. You had no one to dress up for, so you dressed for bed. You hesitated as you blinked at the duvet. “Sugar…” he warned, “Don’t make this difficult.”

“Why?” Your voice crackled in the tension. He pushed his jeans down, his excitement was visible against his briefs.

“Don’t act like you had no part in this,” he pointed to the bed. “You’re so desperate to be a victim.”

Your heart hammered in your ears. You neared the bed and pressed your knee to the edge. His fingers lingered on the elastic of his briefs.

“Don’t be stupid.” He hissed. “Naked.”

You pressed your tongue to the roof of your mouth. _Don’t cry._ That’s what he wanted and you’d done enough of that. You lifted your shirt slowly and let it fall. You rolled your panties down and ignored his movement as he stripped off his briefs. You got onto the bed and laid on your back, waiting for him.

He laughed darkly and snapped his fingers. “Over here,” he beckoned you with his index finger, “On your knees, turn around.”

You bit down and crawled to him. You spun so your back was to him and his hands gripped your shoulders. He squeezed and let out a long breath. He shoved you so you fell forward on your hands. He slapped your ass and you held in your yelp. You hung your head as his fingers danced at the top of your thighs.

He poked at your folds and you quivered. The cold metal pressed to your warmth and he forced his fingers roughly past your entrance, burying them to the knuckle. You clamped your lips shut as he pushed in and out of you several times. He growled in frustration and retracted his hand, lashing your ass once more.

“What’s wrong?” He snarled as he stepped closer and grabbed your hips. “Fucking dry as fuck.”

You closed your eyes as he angled his dick along your entrance and pulled you further back. His tip pressed against your entrance and you opened around him painfully as he forced your legs wider apart. You whimpered and arched your back to ease the intrusion but it still hurt. When he impaled you entirely, he held you there and wiggled his hips.

You hissed as he pulled back and thrust into you as hard as he could. His fingers sank into your flesh as he slammed you into him. The clap of flesh was deafening as he kept a steady motion, working your body against his. You clawed at the blankets and choked on the moans that threatened to rise.

Your body responded, slowly, though it was just as agonizing. You huffed as he sped up. His left hand slid up your back and he gripped the back of your neck. He shoved your head down to the mattress and hammered into you. The bed shook with you and his groans swirled around you.

You slapped at the bed as he ignored your murmured pleas. You bared your teeth and grunted through the pain until he stopped. Until those last, long, stuttered, sharp thrusts left you breathless and weak. He pushed you off of him and your legs went lip as you fell prone across the mattress. His cum trickled down your thigh and he pinched your ass cruelly.

You kicked at him and he caught your ankle. He took your other leg and flipped you over harshly. He squeezed and his raw strength threatened to snap a bone. You stared at him defiantly and pushed yourself up to look him in the eye.

“Do it.” You sneered. “You’ll have to break me before I’ll ever want you.”

His eyes glimmered dangerously and he dropped your legs. He turned and stomped to the door, still naked, and keyed in the code. The door slammed and he left you in silence. You stared, expecting him to return shortly, but he didn’t.

You sat until you were certain he wouldn’t, though really, you could be sure. His cum cooled and turned sticky as the chill seeped into the flesh. He would be back but not soon. You’d have enough time to wash away his touch but not enough to prepare for his next visit.

You watched through the window as Bucky carried the long rifle bag and a duffle to his car. He didn’t tell you he was leaving. He didn’t talk at all anymore; not outside of giving you orders. A week maybe since he’d carved his star into your flesh. A week of solace interrupted only by his startling invasions.

Still you were nervous. The mission could last weeks but you never truly felt safe from him. From that mean streak he called “the soldier”. You shivered as he pulled away from the house and you watched his bumper grimly.

You kept your eyes out the window as you watched the yard. The patches of grass turning green, the sun shining brighter, the birds flitting around collecting twigs, the squirrels scurrying and scrounging. Spring had arrived and yet, nothing had changed. You were still a prisoner. Looking on at the world from the outside.

As your nose tingled and you felt like crying, you turned away. You ignored the television, you were done watching others live a life you’d never have. You sat at the table with the box of patterned paper and began to fold. A sparrow, a swan, a deer; your own little forest of animals.

You wiled away the morning with the creased creatures and as the afternoon beamed through the tinted glass, you sat up and stretched. You yawned as the sun shifted. You stood and walked around as your legs cramped. You froze as you heard the beep. 

He was back already… _that couldn’t be good._

You gulped and watched the door open as the pin pad flashed green. Your hands balled to fists but you were faced by a man you were wholly unprepared for. Steve’s brow wrinkled as he looked around the room. The signs of your isolation were clear. Clothes strewn in a pile, your notebook still overturned on the floor, a messy bed, and you; unkempt and confused.

“Dora,” he said carefully as he stepped inside.

“What are you doing here?” You clasped your hands together. “Where’s Bucky?”

“He’s… away. You didn’t know?” He asked.

“I watched him go but…” You glanced around. “You left me with him.”

“Dor, what could I… I shouldn’t have,” he came closer. He reached out and you cowered. He touched your cheek softly. “Look at you. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s your friend.” You drew away. “You can’t save me from him.”

“You asked why I was here,” he said, “Well, why do you think?”

You were too afraid to be hopeful but when you saw the way he looked at you, you couldn’t help the way your heart throbbed. You couldn’t help but think that he might just get you out.

“But… why would you do that?”

“Because he’s not the Bucky I knew. He’s not the Bucky I saved.” He sniffed. “He’s not the Bucky who can save Dora.”

You frowned and pressed your palms to your neck. “You’d really… save me?”

“I’m here. There’s no going back now.” He reached into his jacket pocket. He revealed the paper frog. “You asked for me to take you away, are you going to come with me?”

Your eyes blurred as tears rose. You couldn’t believe it. You just couldn’t but you had to. It was your only chance. Your only true chance. You couldn’t be afraid anymore. Fear had never done you any good.

“Yes, yes,” you said, “I will. Please--”

“Alright, then we better get going.” He interjected.

He went to the dresser and pulled open each drawer. He took out a shirt, jeans, socks, underwear. He handed them to you and searched for a bag to pack away a few more outfits. He turned to you as you crossed to the bathroom and he stopped you.

“Dora. Let me see your leg.” He said.

You looked down, embarrassed. You lifted the hem of your night shirt and turned your leg to reveal the blazing star mottled in your flesh. His face fell.

“Go, get dressed. Quickly.” He tightened the string on the rucksack and you hurried into the bathroom. 

You changed clumsily. The sense of frequency has your pulse thrumming in your ears. As you came out, Steve dropped a pair of shoes before you and searched the closet for a jacket. He helped you pull it on and handed you the bag of clothes.

He grabbed your arm and swept you to the door. He nudged you ahead of him and you stopped dead in the frame. Your eyes rounded and you poked your head out as you peered down the hallway. You were leaving, really leaving.

“Steve,” you gasped, “I--”

“Dor, go,” he said, “We have to go. Now.”

You nodded and stepped out into the hall. Your entire body buzzed and you felt like laughing. It was much too soon for that. You went to the stairs and rushed down onto the landing, barely catching yourself on the railing at the bottom. Steve edged past you and opened the front door.

The song of birds and the whisper of the wind blew through. You placed one foot in front of the other and turned to Steve as you felt the soft sunlight on you. You stood on your toes and grabbed his shoulders. You kissed his lips and he let you. His hand on the small of your back as he parted and urged you through the door.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you bounced down the steps. “Oh, thank you!”

You followed him to the car and opened your side as he did the same on the other. You hugged the bag to you and sat in the seat. You buckled up as he turned the engine as you shook uncontrollably.

“Steve,” you smiled as he reversed and steered the car around the long gravel drive.

“Dor,” he said evenly as he drove towards the highway.

“I love you,” you sang, “I love you so much!”

He was quiet. He kept his hands on the wheel and stared out the windshield. His long golden lashes caught the sunlight as he stopped at the end of the dirt path and looked onto the black road ahead. He looked at you, his blue eyes warm as the wrinkle left his forehead.

“I love you too,” he echoed and tore his gaze from you. He let out a sigh and stepped on the gas, “Just stick with me, Dor, and you’ll be okay. I promise.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse, noncon, isolation, torture, suicide attempts and thoughts, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and a side of Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: Freedom is a relevant concept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...
> 
> <3 Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3 Let me know your thoughts.

As you neared the city, you felt your heart bloom. You watched the pedestrians, the buildings, the other cars. It was as if it was the first time you’d ever seen civilization in practice. Joggers, couples walking their dogs, others in suits with their urgent steps, and the slovenly in hoodies and frayed jackets. It was all surreal. So distant and so close. Just on the other side of that window.

“Where are we going?” You asked suddenly. “Your place? Can’t Bucky find us there?”

“No, not my place,” Steve said flatly. “Just… trust me.”

“Shouldn’t we go far away?” You fidgeted, restless as reality set in. You were on the run from the most dangerous man you’d ever known. “Hide, somewhere.”

“I know a place,” Steve assured you as he looked out across the traffic. “Dor, it’s alright now.”

You tapped your fingertips along your bottom lip. You stared out the window. The sky dulled as the afternoon wore out. It would be dark soon. The night would make the city more sinister. Already, the romantic glow began to fade. You noticed the steaming sewers and the litter on the curb.

“Steve,” you whispered as he turned a corner.

He didn’t say anything, even as you called his name a second time. You squeezed the bag still in your lap and felt a hard shape inside. You loosened the drawstring and pulled out the notebook. Your journal. He reached over and pushed it down until it was flush against the rucksack.

“Dora,” he turned into an alley, barely clearing the reeking dumpster.

“Wait,” the breath went out of you. You glanced up at the boxy concrete buildings. The shadows were familiar, the way the wind tunnel between the walls. “You…”

“Put it away, Dor,” he said.

He stopped at the dead end of the alley and the engine settled and stopped. He sighed and grabbed the notebook from you. Then he snatched the bag and tossed it in the backseat, the journal pressed to the wheel. 

“Please, don’t do this. Not again.” You begged as you grabbed the handle and the doors clicked. “You can’t. You were supposed to save me.”

“Save you?” He shook his head and snorted. He opened his door and heaved himself out of his seat, slamming the metal shut behind him. He rounded to your side and pulled open your door. “Get out.”

“No,” you said, “No. No, you can’t make me.”

“Dor,” he growled and placed the notebook atop the car roof, “Come on!”

He bent over you as you flailed out at him and screamed. “Help! Help! Somebody--” 

He clamped his hand over your mouth and unbuckled your seatbelt with his other hand. He grabbed the back of your neck and jolted you out onto your feet. You grunted and tried to stomp his toes as he thrust you ahead of him. He looped his thick arm around your neck and squeezed. 

“Walk,” he ordered as his bicep threatened to crush your throat. “Now.” He scooped up the notebook and kicked the car door shut. He pushed you along the alley and turned you at a metal door. “Open it.” He snarled.

“Steve, Steve,” you kicked out against the door and tried to shove him back with all your weight. “Let me go! I’ll die down there! You don’t understand, I can’t-- Not again, not again.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he tightened his arm around you, “But don’t think I won’t.”

He pushed down the handle with your journal and hooked a finger through it and forced the door open. He pushed you inside as you continued to lash out. You knew these walls, knew the dimpled concrete and the dark stains. You knew the stagnant smell and the tepid air that grew cooler as you neared the top of the stairs.

“How did you know?” You gasped as he kicked open the heavy door at the top of the steps. “How--”

“Don’t make me throw you down. It’ll hurt but you’ll survive.” He wrenched you off your feet and you clawed at the narrow walls as he pressed onward. 

Not much had changed since your time there. That round table where they sat, smoked, gambled, and plotted remained. The chairs were broken and bullet casings were scattered on the floor, their scars marked the walls. He took you to that hallway, that long hallway, and you cried out again.

“It’s best for you, Dora.” He said, “You gave us no choice.”

You twisted and writhed. He dropped the journal and nearly lost his grip on you and snaked his arm around your waist. He walked backwards as he dragged you along the stone. 

As you reached that door, you dug your nails into his hand but he didn’t even flinch. He flung you inside and pulled closed the bars. You threw yourself against them, the mechanism held. You looked down at it and hit it with your fist. It had been fixed. You gripped the bars and shook them.

“Steve!”

“Steve,” another voice echoed you evenly.

Bucky came up next to Steve, the duffel slung over his shoulder and your notebook in hand. He slapped the cover and shook his hand as he neared. His jaw twitched and squared as he clenched. His blue eyes pierced you.

“Bucky… Bucky, please,” you reached out, “Why? Don’t leave me here. Please, you can’t--”

“You said it yourself, sugar,” he looked down as he fluttered through the pages. He looked to Steve and nodded. “I have to break you.”

Steve swung the heavy outer door and it clanged into place. The small cell blackened entirely. You barely withdrew your hand before it was crushed. You staggered back and pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could you think that you could ever be saved? That anyone could ever love you?_

  


The cot was still there. You didn’t lay on it though. You couldn’t. You just sat on the floor and waited. For what… for the same torture that always came down there. You didn’t cry. At times, you felt as if you would, but the tears didn’t come. You sat, numb yet terrified. It was a grim sort of acceptance because you thought you’d come to terms with it years ago.

You woke from bouts of shallow sleep against the wall. Your back was stiff and tight. You had no way to count the hours. Time didn’t exist down there. It never had. 

The door opened once. You didn’t look as a bottle of water was slipped between the bars and some pre-packaged bullshit. You drank the water but ignored the food. 

Waiting, waiting, waiting… 

Dreading, dreading, dreading…

When the door shifted a second time, you stayed as you had been. Keys jingled and the hinges whined. The sealed container was kicked aside and the bars were jolted back into place. You tried to ignore the figure as the light flickered on. Another shadow loomed in the hall, looking in at the other.

“Get her up.” Bucky ordered. “Strip her.”

“No!” You slapped away Steve’s hand as he reached for you. “No!”

He batted you back and grabbed your arms. He jerked you to your feet. He pulled at the top of your jacket until the zipper split and clawed at his arms. He ignored your struggles, barely flinching as he tore the hem of your shirt up. He struggled as you latched onto the tee but he ripped it away with a hard yank.

He spun you and threw you so that you fell against the cot. Before you could turn around, he gripped the top of your jeans and pulled them down, taking your panties with them. He struggled with your shoes and bunched them up in the denim with your socks. He passed each piece of your clothing through the bars as you curled up on the cot as you tried to cover yourself.

“You like Steve?” Bucky asked. “He told me you said you love him.” He snickered darkly then hit the bars hard. “You’re supposed to love me!”

You quivered and stared at your knuckles, your arms wrapped around your knees. “I hate you. Both of you.”

“Oh? You hate him now?” Bucky challenged. “Steve, go on.”

Steve approached the cot again. You cowered and bent your head as you sat with your knees bent and hugged your legs close. He grabbed your wrist and twisted it back until you cried out.

“Steve, please,” you pleaded, “Please. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt your Dora.”

“Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be,” he uttered as he took your other wrist.

“Don’t talk to her,” Bucky snapped. “You know what to do.”

You cried out as you wrestled with Steve. He held your wrists apart and forced you down onto your back. You kept your legs bent as he climbed onto the cot, his knees on the thin mattress. He let go of your arms and pulled on your knees. He was overwhelmingly strong. He parted your legs as your muscles strained and screamed against his strength.

You flung your arms out as he moved between your legs. He unbuttoned his fly and you kicked around him. You shook your head and pushed on his thighs. He bent over you, his thick arm across your chest and you peered up into his eyes desperately.

‘Please,’ you mouthed to him.

His blue eyes didn’t waver as he stared down at you. He prodded your entrance and you winced as he entered you in a single motion. His hot breath tickled you and you closed your eyes as he thrust atop you. Your fingers curled into his shoulders and you grasped at the cotton of his shirt.

He grabbed your chin as you tried to turn your head. He pressed his lips to yours and groaned. You choked on a whimper. You wouldn’t let him hear your pain.

“What’s the matter, sugar?” Bucky taunted from the hallway, “I thought you loved him.”

You opened your mouth and quickly bit down on Steve’s lip. He pulled away and grunted. “The fuck?” He touched his bloody mouth, “She bit me.”

“Give it to her harder,” Bucky growled. 

Steve muttered and snapped his hips up into yours. The teeth of his zipper hit your tender flesh and rubbed coarsely against your folds. You hissed but held in the cries that threatened to overflow. He crushed you beneath his weight as the scent of his sweat seeped into your nostrils. His head fell down beside yours as he began to pant.

“In her mouth,” Bucky demanded, “Like they did.” He inhaled, “Isn’t that right, sugar?”

You covered your face and Steve sat back. He shuddered and pulled out of you. The cot moved as he stood and he came up along the side. He wrenched your hand from your face and stroked himself over you. His fingers slid down to your jaw and he pushed his thumb against your lips until you opened your mouth.

He held your mouth open as he slipped his tip just past your lips. He finished himself with a long groan and hot ribbons covered your tongue and trickled down your throat. He released you and swore as he backed away.

He stretched his neck as he sighed and fixed his pants, zipping them up as he approached the bars. You spat his cum onto the floor and coughed as you wiped your lips. You felt like puking but you merely turned your face down and hid.

“Oh, sugar, you can end this,” Bucky said as he unlocked the door. You listened as Steve stepped out into the hall, “I only ever wanted to give you what you need. I still do, sugar. You just have to ask.”

There was a pause. You didn’t move. Bucky tisked and the door closed loudly, then the other, the metal echoing against the concrete walls. You shivered as the light went out. Their footsteps faded away and you turned to face the wall. 

You knew what Bucky wanted. _How long before you gave it to him?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that was a rough chapter, so please, take care of yourself and stay safe.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse, noncon, isolation, torture, suicide attempts and thoughts, further tags to be added.
> 
> This is dark!Bucky and a side of Steve and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
> 
> Summary: Standing still isn’t being trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I finished this series. I’m sad to say goodbye to our Dora and all that I’ve put her through, but I hope you guys enjoyed the ride.
> 
> <3 Thank you. Love you guys!
> 
> Please leave some feedback <3 Let me know your thoughts.

Goosebumps spread over your body as the blanket shifted. The large hand slipped beneath the duvet and tickled along your spine. You giggled as the thick fingers squeezed your hip and turned you on to your side. Hot breath brushed around your neck, encasing you as Bucky did the same.

He lifted your leg and pushed it back over his. Gentle, softly, he felt around blindly and grumbled into your hair. He entered you easily. You were always ready for him, always open to him. He inhaled as he impaled you completely and basked in the sensations that had him breathless. His arm swept up your front and his metal hand cupped your chest.

“Morning, Sugar,” his voice gristled as he began to rock, your body moved easily with his.

“Morning,” you rasped as your breath hitched. You arched your back and leaned into his motion. Your body moved with his long, even thrusts.

“Love you, sugar,” he purred and nibbled the back of your ear. “You love me.”

You bit your lip and blinked. You stared at the wall as you grasped the corner of the pillow. His other hand slipped beneath you and he began to play with your clit. The cloying coil began to wind. You nodded desperately as you watched the tinted window.

“Yes,” you quivered as you watched a dove land just outside on the slant of the roof. “I love you, Bucky.”

“Mmm, sugar,” he purred as he kept on, using you without protest.

You felt the steady incline of your climax. You floated higher and higher as air filled your chest and made your dizzy. Tendrils stretched along your thighs and your skin buzzed. The tears wobbled at the corners of your eyes and you exclaimed as you came. You closed your eyes to hold back the deluge.

_The door opened again and the flickering bulb lit up. The bars made that horrible clatter as they were pushed inward. You crossed your arms and bit the heel of your hand. You knew what was coming. It was the same every time._

_Steve’s hand would grab your shoulder and he’d force you onto your back. You’d given up trying to keep your legs closed, instead splaying for his wants. The sooner he began, the sooner it was over._

_But it wasn’t the warm grip of your fallen saviour, it was the cold metal touch of your warden. You clenched your jaw and wove your fingers together as if to pray. Your body shook in fear. He hadn’t entered the cell at all since your arrival; he just watched and gave his orders. Taunted you and reproached you for your wrongs._

_You let him push you flat but kept your eyes averted. You looked at the stone ceiling, that same dip in the mortar you knew so well. His fingers went to your chin and he bent so that his nose wasn’t far from your own._

_“Look at me, sugar,” he growled. You whimpered and obeyed. His blue eyes were frightening as they glowed even his shadow. “Do you know how long you’ve been down here?”_

_You frowned. You didn’t understand his question._ **_How long? What did it matter?_ ** _It didn’t make a difference to you. You shook your head as much as you could and his hand fell to your throat. He traced the line of it. You clung to the edge of the cot as you tried to brace for what came next._

_“Do you want to go?” He asked._

_Your eyes rounded and welled. This was some sick game to him. You shook your head again._

_“I belong down here,” you croaked and grabbed his wrist. You stretched your hands across his and pushed it firm against your throat. “Please…”_

_He stared at your hand on his. At the subtle plea for the end. He tilted his head and drew away. His hands went to his hips and he paced the tight space. The scar on your thigh grazed the other and you felt the stark outline of the five points. He spun back to you._

_“Move over,” he neared again and pointed to the end of the cot._

_You sat up, stiffly. Your muscles were cramped from inactivity and your repeated use. You huddled in the corner as Bucky sat at the foot of the mattress. You smelled of sweat and the filth of your neglect. You were just an animal in a cage._

Bucky tilted into you over and over. His groans crowded in your ears and you turned your face to the pillow. Your walls clenched around him as he continued to play with your bud. You were soon whining and writhing again, pushing against him as your thighs spasmed. You panted and puffed wildly.

His arm lowered to your waist and he turned on to to his back, taking you with him. He stayed inside of you and dug his heels into the mattress as he kept his rhythm. He pressed his hand to your cunt, spreading his fingers around his dick as he fucked you. The heel of his hand rested on your clit and you moaned helplessly.

His heavy breaths dampened your scalp as he inhaled your scent and you felt him getting close. He brought himself to his base and relented only to do it again. Several long strokes as his voice stormed and stuttered. His arm tensed around you and then, at once, you felt every muscle in his body slacken.

He stilled you a top him. You laid limp and languid as you stared at the ceiling. His heart hammered against your back. Your own raced but the adrenaline did little but dull your nerves further. You came down quickly and waited. You didn’t dare move away from him, even as he went soft inside of you and fell out.

“So, sugar, what are we doing today?” He asked.

_“You remember the room?” He said carefully. You nodded and trembled. “You remember… you were happy there?” He looked at you and his jaw twitched._

_You lowered your eyes._ **_Happy?_ ** _You smiled but it wasn’t a real smile. It was bitter and sad. You did remember. You had started to remember._

_The woman in the front seat, the young girl in the field of flowers. Your mother, your sister… You’d been walking home to see them when you were taken. Your phone bounced on the pavement as you fought with the man but the trunk shut out the world and then the cell, then the pain, and the years of darkness._

**_Then Bucky._ **

_You swallowed your tears and raised your eyes to meet his. Your mother was out there, free, and your sister too. Maybe without you but you imagined they were safe. That made you happy. They wouldn’t want you to give in, they’d want you to survive, even if it meant suffering._

_“Very,” you lied and leaned against the wall. “Were you… happy?”_

_“Yeah, I… we can be happy again, sugar,” he said softly as he reached out to touch your ankle. “You know we can.”_

_“I know.” You whispered. “I want to be…”_

_Silence. You sat and pressed your palms to your cheeks. They burned even as the rest of your body was frigid and fragile. He was waiting. He had been waiting;_ **_days, weeks, months, who knew?_ **

_“I’m…” your voice drifted off and you cleared the lump from your throat. You pushed away from the wall and moved closer to him, cautious as he watched you. His brows twitched as you did. “I’m sorry.”_

_“Sorry?” He repeated._

_“I, uh,” you rubbed your hands together. Your entire body was a pit collapsing in on itself. “I don’t love Steve. I didn’t, ever. I didn’t know what I felt…” you reached to him, past his metal hand and took his real one, “I didn’t know what to feel even though you told me. I didn’t want to listen because I was scared.”_

_He gave a pained expression and watched your hand. He squeezed it then brushed you away. He slumped back against the wall and sighed. “How can I believe you, sugar?”_

_You watched him. He looked dully at the other wall and your lips parted then closed. You had to show him. You had to make him realise you couldn’t stay down here. If you did, you’d be lost; to him, to yourself._

_You stood and stepped between his legs. You bent and kissed him, a hand on his shoulder. He was still at first but slowly, he responded. He let your tongue past as your hand crept down his stomach and you clutched his belt. He rumbled and grabbed your wrist. You pulled back to look him in the face._

_“Sugar?” He said._

_“I love you,” your voice was detached, distant. “Please, let me show you…”_

_“I love you, too,” he grabbed the back of your neck and crushed his lips against yours._

“What do you mean?” You asked Bucky as his hands ran up and down your body, chest, stomach, thigh; back and forth but you felt nothing.

“You’ve been so good.” He hummed. “Should we go for a walk? Or watch a movie?”

You blinked and put your hands on his, twining your fingers in his to still his touch.

“A walk?” The word was brittle, barely spoken.

“I think you’re ready, sugar,” he rolled you down onto the mattress. “Do you think you’re ready?”

You sat up and squirmed as his cum leaked from you. It was uncomfortable but familiar. You had learned well to bear it.

“I…” You took a breath. 

“It’ll be winter again soon.” He said. “Once it snows, we won’t be able to go out.”

You lowered your lashes. You thought of how you’d run from Steve, with Steve. Both times you ended up back there in that room. _That was over. You weren’t that girl. You weren’t lost anymore._

“I think I am.” You smiled; that same sore smile. Fake. Fraught. Forced.

“Good,” he turned his back to you and stood. His strength was corded through every inch of his figure; a contrast to your lack of. “There is one thing.”

He went to his jacket, hung over the back of a chair. He dug around in the pocket. As he turned back, you noticed he wasn’t as soft as before. He had an odd looking cuff; it matched the dark metal of his arm, the same gold ripples along the edges.

“Give me your hand,” he said as he planted a knee on the mattress.

You crawled to him and held your arm out dully. Just another bar on your invisible cell. He clasped the cuff around your wrist; it was snug, so much so it didn’t move; perfectly fit. You would not be able to slip it off over your fingers, even if you cut them off.

“In case you get lost,” he said. “Better safe…” he paused and cradled your face, “than sorry.”

You nodded and looked at it as if it was a shining diamond. “It’s pretty.” You said.

“Like you, sugar.” He squared his shoulders and turned away. “Let’s get cleaned up,” his voice was strained as he neared the bathroom. He peeked back over his shoulder. “You coming?”

“Y-yes,” you stood and nearly tripped. “I’m good. I’ll be good.” You flitted over to him. “Am I good?”

_“Am I good?” You puffed as you worked against Bucky, pushing his shoulders to the wall. “Am I good?”_

_You repeated the question over and over as your breath hurried in time with your breath. You were frantic. You needed out. You needed him to believe you. You needed him to say…_

_“Yes, you’re good. So good,” he held your hips and guided you. “You’re good, sugar. So sweet…”_

_He threw his head back and gritted his teeth. You bent and kissed him as you kept your pelvis moving. You gripped his head between your hands and molded his body to yours. Make him believe. Make him believe you were god. You were his sugar. You were Dora._

_He would never know the truth. Ever. He’d never know your name. That was yours. Your name… you remembered it. You remembered! You remembered who you were!_ **_And you would never be his._ **

_Make him believe._ The words echoed in your head as you watched the water trickle down his chest. He leaned his head back into the stream and the errant drops bounced off your skin. You reached and dragged your hands down his torso. You stepped closer as he looked at you and drew you to him.

“Can we go to the river?” You asked. 

“Wherever you want, sugar,” he held you to him. “Remember what I said.”

“I remember,” you swayed with him, “Stay close…”

“Mmhmm,” he felt along your back, “If you follow the rules, we’ll go again tomorrow.”

You smiled. This time not for him, but for you. You thought of the sunshine and the smell of grass and dirt. You thought of the last days of autumn and the falling leaves. You thought of the highway and the cars passing by. You retraced the road Steve had taken into the city.

Be good and one day, he’d believe you were. 

_One day..._

...

**END**


End file.
